


But Then, My Homework Was Never Quite Like This

by nyxocity



Series: Homework Verse [1]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Light Bondage, M/M, Masturbation, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Rimming, Spanking, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:30:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 85,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nyxocity/pseuds/nyxocity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared’s eighteen and in his senior year at a private school in San Francisco. He’s coasting pretty on his parents generous school donations—until his seventh period Physics teacher gets replaced with the maddening, infuriating, gorgeous Mr. Ackles. Jared’s gotten by all his life on his money and his charm, but Mr. Ackles seems to think he needs some... lessons in self-control. The journey their relationship eventually takes them on turns out to be far more than either of them ever bargained for. ((Toppy!Teacher!Jensen in glasses and Student!Jared in private school uniform included))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The quad is packed by the time he rolls in, people gathered around their usual tables. He heads for the one near the stairs to the second level on autopilot, kicks his pack under the seat and falls into his chair. Everyone’s already here; Chad, Tom, Sandy and Meg.

“Jay,” Chad greets, high fives him. There’s an empty tray in front of him, ketchup spattered all over it like something from a horror movie. “What’s up, man?”

Sandy looks up from where she’s squeezing out her own little ketchup mountain in the center of fries. “Hey, Jared.” She glances at the chair next to him, confused. “Where’s Steve?”

Jared shrugs. “Probably sitting with his drama club group.”

Sandy shields her eyes from the sun and scans the quad like she’s trying to see if he’s there. “What happened?”

“He said I was an asshole.”

“Well, you kinda are.” Sandy smirks and he tosses a balled-up napkin at her.

There are three girls standing by the tree near their lunch table, talking to each other about something he can’t quite hear. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t matter anyway, because, one of them—petite brunette girl with red barrettes in her hair—keeps stealing glances at their table, more specifically at Jared. Like she’s working up the nerve to come over.

“Steve dumped _you_?” Chad’s brows rise above his sunglasses. “Damn, I didn’t think he had it in him.”

“He just did it so he could tell everyone he dumped the great Padalecki.” Sandy grins and pops a French fry into her mouth.

“Not like it’s any great loss.” Jared reaches across, steals some French fries off Sandy’s tray. 

“Hey!” she laughs, tries to smack his hand, but she’s too slow and Jared is triumphant, stuffs them all into his mouth chews with exaggeration while she shakes her head.

A group of guys walk by and one of them raises a hand, looks Jared’s way. “Hey Jared! Great game yesterday!”

Jared nods at him then smirks at Sandy around his mouth full of fries.

The three girls have edged a little closer now, the petite brunette whispering to the taller one, the blond one leaning in to listen. The other two girls giggle, make motions with their hands to the petite girl, who ducks her head a little, glances over her shoulder at Jared.

Jared tugs at the tie on his uniform, loosens it a little. “I’m thinking about blowing off seventh period. Substitute teacher’s been on my ass for assignments.”

“Yeah, the nerve, huh?” Chad leans back in his chair, smirks.

“Some of us actually have to do that every day.” Tom smiles across whatever he’s writing in a notebook.

“Hey, just ‘cause my parents pay off the school is no reason to be bitter,” Jared replies, holds up his hands, grins.

“I heard from Jenny Clayton there’s a new teacher anyway,” Sandy says, swirling a fry in her ketchup. “Some super-genius scientist guy.”

“Oh, I heard that, too!” Meg says excitedly, looking up from her compact. “I heard he’s not even a teacher. He’s like, in physics research or something.”

“Not a teacher?” Sandy frowns. 

“Yeah,” Meg says, goes back to reapplying her lipstick. “Sharon—you know Sharon, Sharon Nagel? She works in the office for like, extra credit sometimes or something. She’s totally a drag, but she always hears the best stuff, so I like, talk to her sometimes in the hallway and stuff, you know? Anyway, she told me he’s like, doing somebody on the staff a favor by finishing out the year.” She finishes painting her lips red and presses them together. “Oh! And she said she overheard Mrs. Oppenheimer in the office this morning saying that it’s a shame he’s gay.”

“There you go, Jared,” Sandy grins. “Just the thing for your broken heart.”

Jared laughs. “Yeah, right. Physics research. The guy’s probably a total _geek_.”

Meg snaps her compact shut and shoves it back in her purse. “I heard--”

“Jared!” There’s a blond girl walking up, books tucked under her arm as she smiles. She stops near his chair, a little out of breath. “Hey,” she says, and Jared thinks he’s met her before. Missy or Chrissy or something like that. She’s kinda cute, round face, button nose, blond hair. “You’re coming to Jamie’s party Saturday, right?”

Jamie Curtis. He knows Jamie, even though they haven’t shared the same social circle since sixth grade. “Sure, I’ll think about it.”

Her blue eyes brighten. “Oh my God, you totally have to! It’ll be great!” She pulls her books against her chest and bounces a little. “See you!” She gives him one last toothpaste-commercial-perfect smile and heads off in the direction of the lockers, pleated skirt swaying.

Chad chuckles and watches her ass as she walks away. “Why do they bother?”

Jared shrugs. The group of girls edging towards the table has melted into the crowd. Probably lost their nerve when Missy-Chrissy-whatever walked up. “I think they’re hoping I’ll switch teams or something.”

“You and Tom both.” Sandy shakes her head, throws her napkin down on her ketchup smeared plate. “Hey, what about you Chad, when’re you gonna come out?” She giggles, sticks her tongue out at him.

By the time the bell for sixth period rings, they’re both streaked with ketchup smears and Chad’s arm has a bright red mark in the shape of Sandy’s hand.

*

Jared walks into seventh period in his usual way; backpack slung across his back, careful avoidance of the teacher’s desk and anything resembling turning in an assignment. Sits in his chair and stretches out, long and slow, and finally settles in, debating whether or not it’s worth it to even pull out his Physics book. And then… he looks up.

There's a man standing in front of the blackboard in a gray suit, white button down shirt with a silver tie. His hair is short, dark blond spikes standing up without the help of any gel, intense dark-green eyes behind thin wire framed glasses. He's got a jaw line like a roman statue, lips that could put Angelina Jolie to shame, and he is, quite frankly, the hottest thing Jared's ever seen.

_Good fucking God. AND he’s gay?_ Jared sends up a silent prayer of thanks to said God for dropping this in his lap.

"Good afternoon, class. As you all know, Mr. Lumnitzer resigned his position here." He turns, scrawls slanted writing across the board. "I'm Mr. Ackles," he says, enunciating the word he's written, sets the chalk down with a click. "I'll be your teacher for the rest of the year," he says turning to face the room. He pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose with a precise forefinger, thoughtless gesture that speaks years of habit.

"I've reviewed Mr. Lumnitzer's teaching plan and notes. But I want to have a more accurate assessment of where you stand individually in terms of understanding the material. If you'll all open your books to page 74, we'll cover the review there and then there will be a quiz on the material we've reviewed."

A few groans rise from the class, people shifting and shuffling in their seats, and Mr. Ackles nods, slides his hands into his pockets. He doesn't seem the slightest bit affected by the dissent, waits for it to settle.

"Mister…" He leans over the desk, runs a finger down a clipboard sitting there before he continues, "Welling. Please begin reading."

Tom blushes, stammers a little as he starts reading. Mr. Ackles turns and begin making notes on the board, telling Tom to pause here and there while he goes over the information in greater detail. The people around him are scribbling down notes, Chad chewing absently on the end of his thumb before he sighs and finally sets his pen to paper. Jared twiddles his pen between his fingers, watches the way Mr. Ackles moves, just the hint of muscles moving under the suit jacket, quick and efficient, calm and certain. It'd be something to watch a man with that kind of control come apart, and Jared's pretty sure he knows a few ways to make that happen.

*

After school, Jared and Chad walk home through the tree-lined streets of their neighborhood

“I want him,” Jared says, no preamble. He knows Chad’ll get it. They’ve been best friends for twelve years. 

“The teacher?” Chad doesn’t sound very surprised. “Always with the hard to get, Jay.”

“That’s what makes it fun.” Jared grins. 

Chad whistles a few bars of _Whatever Lola Wants_ and Jared elbows him in the ribs to get him to shut up. Even though it _is_ true, no way Jared’s called Lola. 

*

He spends most of the next day making plans for seventh period, leaves his hair a little wetter than usual when he leaves sixth period gym class.

"Brought you an apple, Mr. Ackles," Jared says, shining the red skin against his chest. Some of the other students chuckle, and he's pretty sure he can hear Chad's eye roll from here. He grins as he sets the apple on the desk next to a stack of papers. "My way of saying 'howdy'."

Mr. Ackles eyes him from his chair behind the desk, expression unreadable. "Thank you, Mister…" He skims the list of names held on the clipboard briefly. "Mr. Padalecki. Now, if you'll take your seat."

Guy's a challenge, all right, Jared thinks, letting his hips sway just a little as he moves down the aisle. The bell rings shrilly as he reaches his seat, but he takes a few extra seconds, pauses and bends to set his book bag down. He knows that bending from the waist pulls his jacket up, just over his hips, gives anyone looking a nice view of his ass inside his linen pants. Stands straight and stretches his arms high and wide, lets his shirt ride up in the back, showing just a hint of bare skin.

"Today, Mr. Padalecki." Mr. Ackles's voice is crisp and even, like he couldn't be more bored.

Jared turns, gives him his biggest, brightest grin. "Sure thing, Mr. Ackles." He's not even looking at Jared, eyes already on the open book in front of him.

Jared slides into his seat as Mr. Ackles says, "All right class, turn to page 92 in your books."

He has Sarah read the opening paragraphs and then perches on the edge of his desk, book balanced on one knee while he explains the basic principles of theoretical physics. Jared reaches up, tugs his tie loose and undoes the top button on his shirt. He waits a minute or two before he pulls the collar open, pure white linen against his tan skin. Puts his pen between his lips, twirls it around and watches as the teacher catches sight of him. He lets his tongue flick out against the cap, scratched plastic chafing as he lets it slide. Grins around the edges of it and suggests with his eyes what he wishes he was doing instead.

Mr. Ackles barely hesitates, pause so slight Jared wouldn't even have noticed it if he hadn't been paying so much attention. "Mr. Padalecki. I'd like to see you after class." And then his eyes move on, like he didn't even notice.

The flat tone of his teacher's voice gives nothing away, and Jared's torn, caught between thinking he's gotten his attention in exactly the way he'd wanted, and wondering _fuck, did I flunk the quiz_? Because really, it's hard to fucking tell. Jared thinks if aliens invaded Mr. Ackles would have that same neutral, even tone of voice while he informed them.

Class drones on and Jared tunes it out, watches Mr. Ackles intently. But the teacher's eyes don't return to him—not even a flicker, not once during the entire rest of the class.

Jared loosens his tie a little more and looks down at his books while the bell rings, other students leaving the classroom. He slides his doodles in between the pages of his physics book, closes it with soft thump. Mr. Ackles is still sitting at his desk, leafing through sheets of paper intently. Jared reaches down, opens his book bag and slides everything inside the soft blue canvas. 

Minutes tick by as his hands drum against the desktop, foot tapping impatiently until finally he clears his throat.

The teacher still doesn't even so much as glance up. Rubs one hand across his chin, eyes still glued to the paper in front of him, and all right, okay, Jared's had just about enough of being _ignored_.

"Mr. Ackles. You wanted to see me?"

"I can see you fine, Padalecki," he answers, and he _still_ doesn't look at Jared. Jared waits a second, but another minute goes by and it becomes obvious that's all the teacher's going to say.

"Look—"

"Have you always been this impatient?" Mr. Ackles asks, and Jared just stares at him for a second.

"What? What does that have to do with—"

"Because that would explain a lot," the teacher adds, sliding another sheet of paper to the back of the stack.

Jared's left a little perplexed by that. Spends the next five minutes or so thinking about it so hard that he forgets how annoyed he is about waiting. Finally, Mr. Ackles stands up, a single sheet of paper in his hand. He walks down the aisle and Jared forgets to think all together as he undoes the button on his suit jacket, half-sits on the edge of Jared's desk as he sets the paper down.

It's the quiz from yesterday, big red "D" inked in the upper right corner.

"Explain this to me," his teacher says.

"Oh, that," Jared says, disappointed, twists in his seat for a second before he leans back. "I don't test well," he says with a shrug, words coming easily to his lips after years of saying them. "All my teachers know that."

"And this is acceptable to them?" his teacher asks, brow arching above the line of his glasses.

"You can talk to Mr. Leeman if you don't believe me." Pulling out the principal's name never fails to get a reaction.

"I'm not interested in talking to Mr. Leeman." Mr. Ackles folds his arms over his chest and leans back a little. "I understand that your parents have donated a lot of money to the school over the years. In other schools, even other classes, that might buy you some leeway. But I'm of the belief that your parents would take offense if their donations didn't help get you the best education possible, and I'd hate to disappoint them after they've been so charitable."

Jared tilts his head at Mr. Ackles, eyes going a little wide. This guy's for _real_ , he thinks, surprised. Eleven and a half years of private school and _no one's_ ever spoken to him like this. 

Mr. Ackles's expression hasn't changed. "Boredom is not a good reason for grades like this. You're clearly bright, and imaginative. If you want to pass physics and graduate this year, you're going to have to earn your grade. Also," he adds, eyes falling to the exposed triangle of skin at Jared throat. "Uniform protocol will be observed in this classroom."

Jared stutters, speechless for a second, and Mr. Ackles slides from the desk. 

"Dismissed."

Jared grabs his book bag, cheeks flushing hot.

*

"Fucking asshole," Jared hisses as he kicks the school door open.

Chad doesn't blink an eye, takes another drag off the cigarette between his lips and falls into step with Jared.

"Who the hell does he think he is, anyway?" Jared demands, feet meeting the sidewalk with heavy steps.

"What? He ask you to bottom?" Chad chortles around the filter. 

"He said I have to earn my grade in physics."

"That's it?" Chad asks, surprised. "Seriously dude, how fuckin' hard is that, right? Well, for you, anyway."

"That's not the point. You shoulda seen the fucking… arrogant _attitude_ he gave me," Jared huffs, hefting his back pack across his shoulder before it slides off. "No way I'm gonna just do what he wants. That'd be like… letting him win."

"Jay, Jay, Jay," Chad says, affecting worldly wisdom as he claps Jared on the shoulder. "Sometimes, it's not about winning, man. Sometimes, it's about getting laid."

"I don't need to get laid that bad."

"Whatever you say, man." Chad shrugs and moves back to his side of the sidewalk.

*

Jared's still pissed the next day in class. He also still can't stop looking at Mr. Ackles. Maybe if he could just figure out what it is about him… maybe then he won't want him anymore. Jared sucks unconsciously on the end of his pen and watches him talk. It's his mouth, Jared decides. Or maybe his eyes. Or maybe... his ass, the way it rounds against the suit pants.

"Mr. Padalecki. Since you're so riveted by today's lesson, why don't you try demonstrating the equation?"

Jared blinks, completely lost. But Mr. Ackles is holding out a piece of yellow chalk to him, eyes expectant. There's just a hint of a smile tugging the corner of his teacher's mouth, so faint that anyone who hasn't practically memorized his facial structure probably wouldn't notice.

_Asshole_ , Jared thinks. _He knows I haven't been paying attention._ And it's either walk up there and look like an idiot when he gets to the board, or admit it and look like an idiot here in his chair.

"Don't know how," Jared mutters, sets his jaw.

"I'll walk you through it."

Jared sighs and rises from his chair. Takes the piece of chalk and walks to the board, his teacher's smile still mocking him inside his head. He's been too distracted staring at Mr. Ackles the whole time to know what he's supposed to be doing.

And then Mr. Ackles moves up behind him, wraps his fingers around Jared's hand, gliding the chalk over the board. Jared has no idea what he is writing. Because his incredibly hot asshole of a teacher is RIGHT. THERE. Breath hot against the back of his neck, body almost touching him, strong fingers moving over his. He can hear the rest of the class behind him, shuffle of feet and papers, pencils tapping, someone whispering quietly to someone else. But they seem very far away. The world is centered on his teacher; hand drawing out symbols and numbers with Jared's, fingers closed around his. His hand doesn't cover Jared's, it's small by comparison, but he doesn't seem to notice, moves like he's totally in control.

He leans in, chest just touching Jared's back as he pulls Jared's hand down the chalkboard, beginning a second line. "And now, we..." the words fade out of focus, lost on Jared. All he can feel is the back of his neck, skin tingling where Mr. Ackles is breathing out words, hot puffs of air scattering goose bumps down his spine. He's not quite close enough to be improper--just enough to make Jared think improper thoughts. Like he wasn't already.

His teacher lets go, fingers trailing briefly over the back of Jared's hand, and Jared's dazed, staring at the chalk board and breathing hard, no idea what the symbols and letters written across it are supposed to mean.

When he sits back down in his chair, Chad kicks him under the desk, nods appraisingly and flashes him a thumbs up. Jared looks away quick, hopes Mr. Ackles wasn't watching. No need for him to worry about that; he's back to not noticing that Jared exists, discussing the finer points of the equation with Gina in the second row.

Definitely his mouth, Jared thinks. Wonders if it would be as soft and plush as it looks. If he'd taste bitter like the coffee he sips during class, or like the breath mints he slips in after he finishes the cup. If he'd kiss gentle and sweet, or maybe demanding like his personality, rough swipes of tongue and—

Okay. Maybe he _does_ need to get laid that bad.

When the bell rings, he takes his time gathering up his stuff, motions to Chad to go on ahead without him. Chad arches a brow at him, flashes a sleazy grin and ambles out of the class, back pack brushing the tiled floor like an extension of his knuckles.

Jared waits until the last student has left before he zips his bag shut, takes a breath and slings it over his shoulder as he walks to the teacher's desk.

Mr. Ackles is reading a book, index finger pressed against his lower lip, brows drawn together in concentration. Jared could be a ghost for all the attention he's paying.

Jared clears his throat. "Mr. Ackles, I've been thinking about what you said."

"Really?" He doesn't move an inch, reading like he hasn't been interrupted.

"Yeah. And I'm… I shouldn't have acted that way. You're right. I ought to earn my grade."

He finally looks up over the rim of his glasses, brows rising just a fraction.

Jared takes another breath and hurries on. "It's just… well, I think I need some help, you know? Maybe some… tutoring after school."

Mr. Ackles's fingers tap against the book as he looks at Jared. "You have a student in mind for this tutoring?"

"Actually," Jared says, glances down. He runs a finger along the edge of the desk, feels a sharp nick in the sleek wood. "I was thinking maybe you could…" He shrugs. "You know." It's a lot easier than he thought it would be, playing the part of the shy student asking for help. 

_Just playing the part_ , he reminds himself, runs his tongue over suddenly dry lips.

"Tomorrow," Mr. Ackles says. "After class."

Jared looks up and he's gone back to reading his book.

*

The next day, after school, Jared finds himself sitting in the middle of a scattered circle of file folders. Olive green, legal size, not a single one labeled, and seriously? _Why_ do they make it so hard to slide in the clear plastic tabs? It's like some kind of fucking conspiracy by the manufacturers to make everyone suffer because their job sucks. He curses under his breath when a tab sticks into his thumb instead of sliding into the slot, wipes it on his jeans and shoves the sharp corner in.

_Theory of Relativity_ , he writes in blocky, capital letters, slips the bit of paper inside the plastic, and sighs when the ink smears. Adds it to the small stack on his left—his little island of sanity, as he's starting to think of it—and grabs the next at random.

He flips through the next folder, favoring his injured right thumb, leaves a tiny smear of crimson on the edge of a sheet of notes scratched in hasty handwriting. Theories on the Heisenberg principle—whatever that is, Jared thinks—sucks the tip of his thumb between his lips and flips past. It's all Heisenberg, all the time, which, as far as he can tell, basically boils down to, "things happen, and you don't know exactly the why or the how or the how fast or maybe even the when and where—but they happen, and you can't use math to explain them, because they're the reason the math exists in the first place."

This makes about as much sense to him as reality television, although it's marginally more interesting. At least you _know_ you're not supposed to understand it, he thinks, and writes out the next label. _Heisenberg Principle_. He blows across the tab of paper until it's dry and shoves it inside the plastic sheath.

Mr. Ackles is sitting at the desk behind him, writing diligently in his planning book, pen gliding across the paper, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

"You're not gonna believe this, but Heisenberg just put reality television in perspective for me," Jared says, adds the folder to the stack.

His teacher looks up, pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose, quirks an eyebrow. "Mr. Padalecki, are you actually learning something?" Tiny smile crinkling the corners of his eyes

Jared grins. "Not that I'm complaining," he says, fiddling with the next tab. "But is that why you're having me organize file folders instead of doing assignments or something?"

Mr. Ackles considers for a second, taps his pen once, twice against the desk top then sets it down. He turns his chair toward Jared, folds his arms over the light blue of his collared shirt. "Your problem isn't with the material." He seems about to say something more, but he turns away instead, goes back to writing.

Jared sighs, opens the next file. Pauses at the signature written at the bottom of the pages. _Jensen Ackles_. _Jensen_ , he thinks, trying it on for size, sneaks another glance at his teacher. Wonders what he'd do if Jared let the word roll off his tongue. Wants to say it out loud, taste it. Looks back down instead. It's a copy of his contract for employment, and Jared can't believe what he's holding. Name, address, date of birth, phone number. He's still for a long time, memorizing the words.

"Did you find the secrets of the universe?" Mr. Ackles—Jensen asks, hint of a tease in his voice. Cheeks flushing, Jared closes the folder quickly, sets it aside without labeling it. 

"Still stuck on Heisenberg," he lies, fumbling the words.

"Tell me what you learned."

He stutters haltingly over the theory he'd distilled earlier. "Sometimes things happen and we don't know how, why, where, or even when. And you can't use math to explain them, because they're the reason the math was created in the first place."

Jensen nods. "Not bad, Padalecki." There might be something like pride in his eyes. Jared has to look away before he can be sure. He keeps working, adding folder after folder to the stack. Every now and then, his fingers stray to the discarded folder, run the length of its spine, guilt and excitement making his heart rush.

*

Four school days later, he finally finishes the folder project, complete with loading them into the monster file cabinet in order, thumbs poked full of holes as a sponge. He's proud; five days of this shit, fifteen hours of his life, and Jensen's ignored him almost the entire time. It's taken every bit of his willpower not to break, throw up his hands and walk out. He figures that's got to earn him a little respect, maybe even a thank you.

Jensen just nods, and hands him a cardboard box full of loose paper. "Now file these," he says.

Jared feel his thin bubble of patience pop, rip open like a piñata and all the pent-up anger come tumbling out. "Five days of this crap," he snarls. "Five days and you've hardly said a _word_ to me. You're supposed to be teaching me, and here I am-- filing papers, taking your orders, being your _bitchboy_."

Jensen's standing, back turned, frozen. Turns slow on his heel, face smooth, carefully expressionless. "I _am_ teaching you."

"Yeah, wax on, wax off," Jared mutters, clomps angrily to his desk, snatches up his bag.

Jensen stands there, arms crossed, line etched deep between his brows, lips tight. "Remember when I told you your problem wasn't with the material? It isn't. Your problem is patience, attention to detail, focus. And all you're doing," he says in clipped, terse tones, "is proving the point."

"Take your Mr. Miyagi act to someone who cares," Jared spits, stomps from the classroom. He's fucking had it with this shit. Big fucking elaborate plot to humiliate Jared and get some manual labor done. He slams the door to the room, heart pounding in his head, blood hot in his veins.

Rational thought creeps back in somewhere around two blocks from the school. 

Okay, so maybe he hasn't been very patient. He guesses five days isn't really that long. But dammit, he _tried_. He worked really hard, and all he wanted was an acknowledgement. _Something_. Not gonna get that now. All he did was just prove to Jensen that he's the spoiled, selfish brat Jensen thinks he is. Broke all the promises he made to himself, screwed up everything he's accomplished so far. He'd really thought he could _do this_. He's never come up against anything he wanted that he couldn't have.

_You really gonna give up that easy?_ Jensen's smile mocks him.

Dammit. He grits his teeth, sets his spine, walks back the way he came.

When he arrives back, Jensen glances up, ceases writing for a moment. Jared doesn't look at him, sits back down in front of the box and starts sorting. Four stacks beginning; notes, tests, official, unknown. Jensen tips his head, sets his pen in motion again, rustling of paper the only sound in the room.

When Jensen starts packing up, Jared sets his sorted stacks back into the box. Grabs his backpack and heads for the door without a word.

"Padalecki…"

Jared stops, turns.

Jensen's looking down, closing the clasps on his briefcase. "See you tomorrow."

"Yes sir," he nods.

Jensen's fingers stutter against creamy brown leather, thumb missing the clasp. It pops open, barely registered by both of them. Jensen's looking at him… and there's something in his eyes like Jared's never seen before. Something darker, deeper, that makes Jared's stomach flip over. Flex of a muscle in Jensen's throat as he swallows, then he looks down with a nod.

_There_ , Jared thinks, scuffling his feet away down the hall. _That's what I wanted._

*

After class the next day, Jared goes straight to the box, lifts it onto his desk and starts sorting the first stack into smaller piles. He files those in record time and moves on to the second stack, fingers flying, brain clicking and whirring in a rhythm of sort, gather, file.

By the time he's reaching the bottom of the box, it's late. The sun is drifting in; lazy slants of late afternoon light painting the room gold, dust motes catching and dancing in the streams. 

"You can finish those tomorrow," Jensen says, rises from his desk and stretches, muscles flexing the pinstriped lines of his shirt.

"Ten more minutes." He really wants to finish this today. He looks back down, can hear Jensen walking over, probably seeing how close he is to being finished. He reaches into the box for the last batch. 

A warm hand settles over his, presses his palm flat against paper. Brush of Jensen's shoulder against his arm, and he turns his head, surprised.

"Why are you really here, Jared?"

The sound of his name hits him, delicious and heady in that throaty voice. Jensen's looking straight at him, eyes level behind his glasses, faint stubble lining his jaw. He smells faintly of cologne, sharp musk with bright edges, and he's _so close_ \--

Jared doesn't think. Just tilts his chin down, leans in. His mouth feels like it melts against Jensen's, trace of sticky-sweet coffee, hot slide of soft skin and he licks out, tastes the divot in Jensen's lower lip. Lifts his hand and touches Jensen's chest. For a split second he's conscious of everything—the way those fingers suddenly tighten over his, Jensen's breath speeding up a notch, smooth, lean muscle under his fingertips, smell of paper, chalkboard dust and cologne mingling together—and then Jensen pulls away.

"No." His voice is rough, ragged edges leaving shivers down Jared's spine. His eyes are darker than Jared's ever seen them, barest shake of his head. The pounding in his chest stops so abruptly that he feels like his heart swooped down to his feet, leaves his stomach churning, sick feeling rising in the back of his throat.

Jensen pushes him back, both his hands fisted in Jared's shirt. Jared's shoulders collide with the filing cabinet, breath leaving him in a rush. Dammit, he made a mistake, pissed Jensen off.

"We can't do this," Jensen says, moving into his space. Bare inches between them, and he can feel Jensen's breath glide over him when he speaks.

"I know," Jared says, voice thick, stomach twisting. "I…"

"Not like that." Jensen's hand releases his shirt, moves slow down the front of Jared's uniform. Stops, warm and solid, palm cupped against Jared's belly. Jared's brain can't catch up, isn't tracking.

"If we're going to do this… if this is what you want," Jensen whispers. "Then we do it my way." His other hand slides into Jared's hair, fingers trailing the shape of his skull, tugging him to look down. His palm rises from Jared's stomach, slips around his waist, settles over Jared's hip bone.

"Do you want this, Jared?" Jensen leans in, up. "Do you want me?"

Jared's pretty sure he's forgotten how to breathe, much less speak words. But somehow, he pushes out a _yes_ , and that must be good, because Jensen nods, says, "Now you can kiss me."

"Yes sir," Jared breathes, speech returning without any control from him. He feels Jensen shudder at the sound, the exact moment their lips meet, sigh something that sounds like _good boy_ maybe, and then Jared loses track of everything else, because he is _kissing_ Jensen. And Jensen's kissing him back.

Jared's kissed other guys. This is not his first kiss. Still, when Jensen parts his lips, slides his tongue into Jared's mouth and licks like he's _tasting_ Jared, he feels all of fourteen again, knees going weak, stomach inside out, heart pounding. He whimpers before he can stop himself, and Jensen swallows the sound, rises up and pushes in deeper. He flexes fingers in Jared's hair, sweeps his tongue across Jared's then slowly tangles with it, circling sleek and wrapping around. It's not gentle, and it's not desperate, perfect pressure of his mouth against Jared's, twist of his tongue just a little bit wicked. It's not gentle, but Jensen kisses him deep, takes his time, tasting and teasing, fingers pressing hot into Jared's skull, thumb catching in the hollow of Jared's hip, rubbing lightly.

And then he forgets all about kissing Jensen, because Jensen's body is sinking into his, crush against the file cabinet, muscle and bone melding, handle digging sharp in his back. Chest to chest, hip to hip, squeeze and slide of Jensen's hand around to his ass. Firm grip, grind of polyester, and Jared can feel him—God—right there--yes.

Jensen pulls away, lips shiny and swollen red with kissing. The crisp lines of his shirt fall into place as he steps back, eyes traveling Jared head to toe with dark heat.

"You've been watching me," he says. "I've been watching you, watching me." Jensen pulls from his hair, fingers aligning on Jared's collarbone, nails digging through oxford into skin. "Knowing you were thinking about what I'd do to you." He lifts his hand from Jared's hip, runs a thumb under his lower lip. Jared breathes in, sharp burst of air, tilts his head back. Surge of guilt, so obvious, flush creeping into his cheeks, and Jensen's known all along.

"Yeah. I knew," Jensen says, like he can read Jared's mind. "Every time you asked for the hall pass, came back all flushed and sweating, pants wrinkled." He traces the ridge of Jared's cheekbone. "Did you imagine me? Did I put my hands on you, Jared?" 

"Yes." Helpless, sibilant sound, and Jensen digs a little tighter into his chest.

"Did I make you come?"

"Yes." Jared groans, cock twitching inside his pants, aching pulse, wet tip. 

Jensen draws a line down the center of Jared's body, skates the sensitive skin at the head, fingers working at Jared's zipper. Jared gasps in a breath, rocks his hips up, eager. Jensen pushes on his chest again, palm spreading out, flattening.

"Stay still," he whispers, leans in and nips Jared's lower lip. Jared's still reeling when a velvet smooth palm circles him, slow, sweet drag down the length. Jensen's body is molded against his, fitting to Jared like second skin, hand working between them. Jared bites down hard, can't help another shove of hips, and Jensen's hand goes still.

"Don't move."

Jared swallows back a shaky sound, nods and tightens his hands in Jensen's back. It's really, _really_ fucking hard not to buck into that grip, buttery smooth skin gliding over him, slow flick of thumb under the head. Jensen kisses him again, weight of his body and the file cabinet the only things keeping Jared on his feet. Hard press of him, tongue mapping out the inside of Jared's mouth like he wants to taste every curve, the shape of his teeth, hand moving on him, relentless, firm squeezes, and _fuck_ it's so good, and it's _Jensen_ doing this. He hitches in a breath around Jensen's mouth. "God, gonna… please."

Jensen shakes his head, hums a "no" into him. Jared can feel his balls drawing up, heat spiraling up into pleasure, cock jumping in Jensen's hand—and Jensen loosens his hold, drags the barest hint of fingers up and down. Jared whimpers, and Jensen makes a sound that might be a laugh. He draws back and looks at Jared, and fuck, Jared thinks he might just die right here, because the heat in those eyes is searing, ravenous. "No." The husky sound of his voice is like a jolt as he leans in, closes his teeth around Jared's earlobe for a split second. Licks a trail around the curve, fingers lazy against Jared's dick. "Not until I say."

Jared bites down hard as Jensen rubs his thumb under the head in small, feather light circles. Can't keep back a groan, pressure building inside him, fuck, so good, too good, it's making him crazy and he's going to fucking _explode_. "Please, please, please," he begs, panting, tries desperately to fight it. "I'm trying, just, God, _fuck_." Jensen runs his thumb over the slit, paints the wetness there all over the head. Jared makes a high, keening sound in his throat, shuts his eyes tight.

"Now." Jensen brushes lips against Jared's ear and his orgasm rips through him so hard it yanks his hips behind it, dick twitching, spurting between their bodies, each pulse wracking him with shudders, teeth and fists clenched. Jensen's hand is steady rhythm, palm slick with Jared's come, carrying him through it, pleasure so intense it almost hurts.

He opens his eyes and Jensen's watching him, eyes still hungry. "Good." Jensen's voice is guttural, gravel under summer sun. "Good boy," he says, fingertips sweet, aching pressure around Jared, then releases. "See? You can do what you're told, when you want to."

"Knows answer when given," Jared smiles. His dick's still hanging out, and he can feel sticky wetness drying against his pants, soaking through the layer of his jacket, and he feels a little bit like maybe he took a hit off one of Chad's joints.

"I think we should break you of that habit," Jensen says, tongue flicking out across his lower lip. "So you just do what you're told."

"Any ideas on that?" Jared asks, breathless, leans in to chase his tongue—Jensen sets his palms against Jared's shoulders, leans back, smiles.

"Lots of them."

Jared's still going for the kiss, and Jensen's just holding him there. "What?" he asks, impatient to touch, pull and tug.

"That." Jensen presses his fingers to Jared's lips. "There are things you need to understand. If we do this, it's because you're choosing it, of your own free will. You can stop at any time, no repercussions. I won't say anything, I won't be mad; I won't treat you differently in class. So you don't have to do this. You can walk away any time. But if you do come to me… then there are things I'm going to expect of you."

"Like what?" Jared asks again, barely keeps the snap from the word, pulls it back just in time.

"That you do what I say, when I say it."

He stops. Thinks about it. Really _thinks_ about it, because no one's told him what to do in a long, long time, and he's never been very good at obeying orders. But there's something… there's just something about Jensen that makes him want to do whatever he wants. To please him, bring out that smile. He wants to.

Still, he can't help it; it's his nature, really. "And if I don't?"

The corner of Jensen's mouth twitches, just a little, like he wants to smile. "Willing to find out?"

Jared, swallows, nods. There's eight years or so between them, and suddenly he feels very young. "Yes."

Jensen leans in again, prickle of stubble against Jared's chin, mouth hot, and close, so close. "Then go home," he whispers, words ghosting over Jared's lips. They don't make any sense, and he strains forward, catches just a taste of Jensen before he pulls away.

He takes his hands from him very deliberately, final touch encouraging Jared to stay against the file cabinet. "Go home," he says, straightening, hands running down the silk of his tie. Pulls it into alignment and buttons his jacket. "And tomorrow, I expect a complete list of everything you've ever done with another guy or girl." That hint of a smile still lingers around his lips, eyes glinting as he pushes his glasses back into place.

"What?" Jared gasps out, panting and confused.

"Written neatly," Jensen adds. "Organized by each person's name." He turns and walks to his desk, picks up his briefcase with the same hand that he just wrapped around Jared's cock. He pauses in the doorway, throws a glance over his shoulder. "See you tomorrow."

Jared can only watch, jaw somewhere around his chest until it finally sinks in; _Jensen's gone_. And then, he can only tuck himself back inside his pants, pick up his things and walk home, thoughts clanging and clattering inside his head.

*

_What the fuck?_ he wonders, staring at the blank piece of paper in front of him, pen hovering over it like a hesitant promise. It's about the thousandth time he's thought it since he left the classroom earlier. In fact, it's been his _only_ thought, intermittent flash like a neon sign, every five seconds or so, reminding him even if his mind dared wander to say, checking for traffic before he crossed the street. Which, fuck. He was lucky he remembered to do at all, considering.

Thought it as he cleaned himself up, shoved his legs into a pair of jeans, buttoned every button on his shirt. _What. The. Fuck?_ \--shove arms into jacket. Open front door. _What. The. Fuck?_

And now, here he is, sitting inside the familiar brick building with the green, red and white sign outside that proclaims it _Tony's Pizza House_. Distantly, he can hear Tom moaning on about some college guy named Mike who won't give him the time of day. In the chair next to him, Chad nods sympathetically to Tom's sob story, sucks on the filter of his cigarette and commiserates with a similar story about Sophia. Jared's heard this story so many times that he's running out of fingers and toes to count it on. He bites on the end of his thumb and stares at the blank page, tunes it all out.

_Langley, Michael_ , he writes, then stops. Swipes the pen over the page without leaving a mark, and thinks. Hesitates and sets it down again.

_My first boyfriend. Michael, aka Mick, aka Mick the Dick. He kissed like fighting—fast, too hard, and like he never learned how to throw a punch._

He pauses, rereads. Rolls his eyes and crumples up the page. He still staring at the fresh blank page ten minutes later when Tom gets up and says goodnight. 

"What're you doing?" Chad leans over, way too far into Jared's space, filter with its long ash finally dropping off onto Jared's forearm. 

Jared shoves against him, shoulder to shoulder, mouth set in a tight line. "Nothing."

Chad grabs for the crumpled ball of paper. "Come on. You writing love letters or what, dude?"

Jared snatches it away. Looks at Chad very deliberately as he shoves the wadded paper into his mouth. There’s not a lot of room to chew around it, but he manages.

"Dear Mr. Ackles,” Chad says, pitching his voice high and whiny in a poor imitation of a girl. “Roses are red, Violets are blue, Please won’t you beat, My ass red, too?”

Jared squares his shoulders, spits the ball of notebook paper at Chad. It hits him in the chest, falls into his lap.

Chad snatches it up and throws it back in between an "Ew!" and Jared can't help cracking up. Say anything to Chad and he'll fucking deal, but bodily fluids? Freak him out. It’s a wonder the guy ever started having sex.

“He give you extra homework? What the fuck, dude?"

Jared sighs, shakes his head. “Nah.” He’d told Chad about the file cabinet and the hand job on the way here. But he didn’t mention the list. Mostly because he’s still not sure why Jensen asked him to do it. Why does he wanna know this stuff, anyway? What does he want to hear? Does he want all the details? He feels jittery just thinking about writing it.

“Earth to Jay!” Chad snaps his fingers in front of Jared’s face. “So if it’s not homework, why are you doing it?”

“He… he said.” Jared stammers, feels his cheeks catch fire. “He wants me to make a list of everyone I’ve ever messed around with, all the stuff I did.”

“No shit? Dude! He like, wants to know your skills and shit!” He pushes a hand against Jared’s shoulder. “It’s like a résumé… only cooler!” Chad pulls a fresh cigarette from his pack and grins.

Trust Chad to be the kinda guy who ‘gets this’. “You don’t think... it’s a little bit weird?”

“Sure it’s fuckin’ weird.” He shrugs, cups a hand around his mouth and lights his cigarette. He takes a heavy drag on it, pushes out a cloud of gray-blue smoke as he sits back. “So? We gonna do this, or what?”

“You wanna _help_?” Jared’s incredulous. It’s not like Chad doesn’t already know all of Jared’s sex stories, but still.

“Look dude.” Chad flicks his ashes in the general vicinity of the ashtray; misses. “This is like, a list of all your _conquests_. It’s the ode to the Padalecki lovesnake, know what I mean? Besides, you’re gonna need my help if you wanna make it sound good.”

Jared shakes his head, chuckles. He could argue that last statement with the word “lovesnake” alone… but he needs to do this, and he could use some help.

“Okay.”

Chad rubs his hands together and pulls his chair in tight next to Jared’s. Surprisingly, he really is pretty helpful, and half an hour later Jared’s got a complete list from Mick the Dick to Terry the Terrible to Steve Pauley— _didn’t stick around long enough to earn a title_ inked into parenthesis next to his name. Neat little bullet points under each name, listing all the things he’d done.

And then Chad wants him to start adding extra stuff. Stuff Chad’s done, or stuff he _wishes_ he did—‘cause two girls in the coat closet at Homecoming? Yeah. If you count Chad’s imagination and his right hand as ‘girls’. Jared cuts him off halfway into a graphic description of sex between him and some girl when he starts talking about the roasted chicken they had for dinner like it’s gonna have a major role in the story.

“Dude. Seriously, thanks, but I got it. It’s cool.”

Chad looks disappointed; reaches for a gnawed-on crust on the cold pizza plate. “Come on, man. Don’t you wanna impress him?”

“Nah. I gotta do this straight. I don’t wanna lie.”

“You are so weird, Jay.” Chad shakes his head and bites into the dough.

*

When he gets to seventh period the next day he’s got the entire list memorized and not a clue what happened in the six periods before this one. He walks to the desk, and there’s Jensen, leafing through a notebook in his black-and-cream pinstriped suit, composed and perfectly pressed as ever. His hands move as he turns a page—same hands he’d put all over Jared yesterday. It’s weird now, remembering the way he’d kissed him and pressed him into the cabinet. Doesn’t seem real anymore, like some kind of fever dream. 

His body remembers it was real, though; stomach tying into knots, hands shaking, dick stirring in his pants. He wills his hands to calm the fuck down, only shakes a little as he sets his homework face down on top of the pile. His fingers twitch as he slides the second sheet onto the desk, pushes it off to the side, also face down. He waits for a second, for Jensen to look up, say something, but he’s engrossed in whatever he’s looking at. Jared turns, heads to his chair before people start wondering why he’s still standing there. It all takes less than half a minute, surely, but it feels like eternity, palms sweating, heart racing, tightness in the backs of his knees.

The bell rings just after he sits down, and Jensen tells everyone to turn to page 152 and start reading quietly. Jared slides his book across his desk and opens it—doesn’t even check to make sure it’s the right page, could be upside down for all he knows—and watches as Jensen reaches for the stack of homework. Licks his thumb and starts leafing through it. Jared’s piece of paper is still on the desk and he’s pretty sure he’s going to freak out if Jensen doesn’t read it soon.

Jensen sets the stack back down, uncaps his red pen and goes to work. Scratch, scribble, circle, it’s almost hypnotic, and Jared is going to come right out of his _skin_. Finally, Jensen pushes the homework aside and stands up, fingers trailing across his desk as he walks around it. They pick up the piece of paper Jared left there, and all of the sudden Jared’s heart starts beating like it’s trying to bust out of his chest. But Jensen only sits down on the front edge of his desk, sheet held as if forgotten as he calls on Sarah to explain the basics of Thermodynamics. She launches into an explanation about changes in temperature, pressure, and volume on physical systems, and Jensen nods along, listening, glasses halfway down his nose as he rubs the edge of the piece of paper.

“Good,” he nods. “James. Tell me why it’s called Thermodynamics.” James stumbles a little, searching through the open book for the answer, and Jensen flicks his wrist, turns the paper up and starts reading it. 

_Oh, shit. Oh, FUCK._

Jared sinks into his chair, stomach a big miserable ball of excitement and terror. But he can’t stop looking, can’t stop watching.

Jensen’s eyes tick back and forth between James and the paper, occasionally reading while James speaks. 

“Good. And what does ‘heat’ mean, in this instance?” He doesn’t look up when he asks the question. Pushes his glasses up his nose and continues reading.

“Energy in transit,” James answers.

“And dynamics?” Jensen asks.

“Movement.” James smiles and Jensen nods at him over the edge of the paper. His eyes skim down the page, take just an extra second or two to finish whatever he was looking at. Jared holds his breath—waits, watches—but Jensen’s expression never changes. He folds the list carefully, tucks it into his suit breast pocket and eases back on the desk.

_He thinks I am SO lame._

“So,” Jensen says, continuing where James left off, voice calm as if he’d just been reading his grocery list. “If heat means "energy in transit" and dynamics relates to "movement”, then in essence, thermodynamics studies the movement of energy and how energy instills movement.”

Jared sinks even further down in his seat and wishes for sudden death—maybe an airplane propeller from the sky, or an earthquake to open a hole under his desk. Unfortunately, he makes it through the rest of class unscathed. When the bell rings, it’s this huge rush, relief like a flood, followed by a staggering implosion of panic. 

“See ya, Jay,” Chad says and shoots him a quick wink.

Jared’s sitting at his desk, and he has no idea why he’s still here. His face feels hot, skin prickly as the last student leaves. Jensen must think he’s the biggest schmuck who’s ever lived after reading that list, but here he is, still glued to his chair like he hasn’t been dying to run away for the last thirty minutes. What else can he do? He’ll have to come back to class tomorrow no matter what, so why not just get the humiliation over with?

On second thought… what if Jensen laughs at him? God, he’ll never be able to come in here _again_ if that happens. His fingers are reaching for the bag under his seat, legs about to move when he hears Jensen get up, walk to the door and shut it quietly. Soft click of the lock, and slowly, Jared looks up. Sees Jensen, one hand in his pocket, the other loosening his tie—just a little—as he walks toward Jared’s desk.

He slides his hip onto the desk and reaches out, puts his fingers under Jared’s chin, tilts his head up. “Did you tell me the truth, Jared? Is this everything?” he asks, fingers of his other hand tapping the pocket with Jared’s list. Jared really wants to let his head hang, but Jensen’s fingers are warm and strong, eyes magnetic. 

He nods, mutters out a yes. Something flashes in Jensen’s eyes, quick and hard. Thumb pad across Jared’s lower lip as he leans down, closer. There’s no space between them, and Jared feels like he’s suffocating, mesmerized.

“So fucking hot,” he whispers, tip of his tongue tasting where his thumb was.

Jared gasps in a breath. It’s intoxicating, surprise and fire winding through his veins. “But…” he whispers back. “You… I thought...”

“What?” Jensen runs his fingers down Jared’s throat to the smooth material of his tie, eyes locked on his. “That it didn’t turn me on to read about you sucking Michael’s dick? The way you let him fuck you with his fingers? First and only time you ever took it like that.” The catch in his voice sends chills racing down Jared’s spine. Jared whimpers, lifts his chin like an invitation, bares his throat. Jensen slips fingers underneath his tie, loops it slow around his hand. Tightens it to a fist and tugs Jared forward. Kisses him, slow and thorough, soaking heat like an August afternoon. Jared groans, feels the tie cut into the back of his neck, thin ring of pressure. Jensen keeps kissing him, pulls Jared to his feet like the tie was a leash.

He puts his hands on Jared’s shoulders, kissing him in little bursts between words. “The way you let Shane rim you.” Slowly walks Jared backwards, scatter of heated bites and licks. "But you never let any of them fuck you." Jared hits the wall with a thump, feeling dazed, and Jensen’s all over him, touching him everywhere. 

Jared’s dick is a throbbing, aching pulse against his stomach, pushing out against his pants, head streaking the inside of his boxers wet. Jensen’s cock is hard, thick line pressing into him, and he rocks his hips forward, moans when they rub together. Jensen bites his lip, _hard_ , makes a noise like a growl.

“Turn around,” he says.

It doesn’t make any sense. Caught between Jensen and the wall, their hips snugged together, Jared feels pretty much like there’s nowhere else on earth he’d rather be.

“Now.” The word is a rough lash, and it stings for a second. Then Jared turns around, puts his chest against the wall and tries to catch his breath. Jensen runs a hand down his back to the base of his spine, and he shivers. “Take off your jacket.”

Jared does, slips it from his shoulders, feels it slide away to the floor.

“Good.” Jensen’s fingers are splayed against the small of Jared’s back, thumb stroking lightly. “Now, unbutton your pants.”

He does, resists the urge to palm his dick, somehow sure that isn’t allowed.

“Good,” Jensen whispers again. “Put your hands on the wall, good boy. So good.” Jensen rewards him with stroke down the curve of his ass. He doesn’t realize where Jensen’s other hand is until his tie slides up his chest, goes tight around his neck. Not _too_ tight, just enough to pull his head back a little. Jensen runs a hand through the back of his hair, tells him to stay just like that.

His dick is pressed against the wall but there’s no relief for him there if he’s not allowed to move. And he can’t see what Jensen’s doing—oh!

Fingertip inside the back of his boxers, tracing down the crease of him, slick with something that can only be spit. Jared tenses, caught off guard, but the touch sparks heat in his belly, makes his cock twitch impatiently.

“Spread your legs,” Jensen says, leaning in close enough that Jared can feel the heat of his body. He swallows hard, pushes his thighs apart. The way he’s standing, spine perfectly straight, legs apart, feels almost awkward, unnatural. But then he forgets that as Jensen circles his hole, teasing the texture of wrinkled skin there. Jared hisses, blows out a breath, feels his muscles relax as Jensen keeps wringing sensation out of him. Finally, he wriggles his hips, just a little.

“When I say you’re ready.” Jensen’s voice is low, full of grit, and Jared bites down on the inside of his jaw. Jensen rests that finger just against the deepest part of him, barest of presses, doesn’t slip inside. He rubs there in small circles, again and again, keeps that light, firm pressure until Jared wants to arch his back and shove against his hand, open his mouth and scream.

Jensen finally dips the tip of his finger inside, and Jared’s so relaxed, so ready for it that his body opens easily. It’s like torture, Jensen moving his finger in slow circles before sliding deeper inside. Second knuckle, and God it’s so hot, Jensen’s finger _inside_ him. He feels oddly full, strangest pressure, shocks of pleasure sputtering all through him. His dick is rock hard, begging to be touched, rubbed, anything, and Jensen just takes him slow until he’s all the way inside Jared’s ass, praising him and telling him what a good boy he’s being, taking it like this.

Jensen works in and out of him gently at first, building speed and pressure, winding Jared up inside ‘til he’s completely sweated through his shirt, feels like he’s going to pop, his whole dick a sharp ache of need. He feels Jensen do… something, feels his finger flex just a little, and then gasps, crying out as Jensen touches something inside him. It feels like nothing else he’s felt before, hot rush of pleasure spiking out, belly going weak.

“Jesus,” he breathes, thinks he can hear Jensen chuckle, fingers of Jensen’s other hand feathering strokes down his lower back. He pushes on the spot the next time, and the next, and by the time he pushes a third time, Jared’s keening and making noises he doesn’t recognize.

Jensen leans in, brush of smooth cheek skin and hint of stubble across Jared's ear. “Did Michael fuck you like this?”

“God, no,” he chokes out. It hadn’t felt this good. Hadn’t felt good at _all_ , really. But they were fifteen, fucking around, didn’t know any better. But Jesus Christ, if he’d fucking _known_ what it could feel like—

“We’re gonna do every single thing on that list,” Jensen promises, whispering hot. “And _more_.” Jensen’s hand snakes around his waist, shoves down until his fingers brush the head of Jared’s cock. “I wanna see how many times I can make you come.” Scrape of teeth, slight twist of his finger inside. “Every…” –slide and push- “Single…” -twist and stroke- “Way.”

Jared comes inside his underwear so fucking hard that the world grays out, sees starbursts behind his eyes. Explosion ripping through him, jagged fingers of ecstasy like lightning. Jensen presses into him, holds him against the wall so he doesn’t fall, keeps fucking him until he’s mewling, tremors running through him, cock still hard and pulsing, twitching, nothing left to give.

“Please,” lips shaking around the word, doesn’t even know what he’s begging for. Jensen turns him around, kisses him, wet and open-mouthed until he can stand on his feet again. He’s panting, too spent to do anything but lean against the wall as Jensen pulls back. 

Jensen is situating his collar, smoothing his hands against his pants. Hair and clothes rumpled, mouth still kissed red, eyes satisfied and hanging half-lidded. If Jared’s mouth had the energy, it’d be watering right now.

“When do I get to impress _you_?” Jared asks.

Jensen gives him a lazy half-smile. “When I say you do.”

Jared bites down on his lip, fingers twitching with want.

“So, tell me what you learned today.” Jensen yanks his tie up, down, sets it straight again.

_That you give better orgasms than God?_ Jared’s brain is still a little too sex-addled to spit out more than that. He strains, trying to remember. “Thermodynamics,” he says, slight feeling of triumph.

Jensen actually smiles a little as he buttons his jacket. “Not that. The _unspoken_ lesson.” 

Jared blinks, confused, racks his brain for something, anything. Nothing happens—besides a lot of desire to put his hands on every inch of Jensen’s skin. “I don’t…”

“I’ll give you until after class tomorrow to think about it,” Jensen says, turns toward his desk and shakes out his sleeves. He picks up his briefcase. “See you then.”

“Oh, and Jared?” he calls back over his shoulder, pausing just outside the door. “If you can’t give me the right answer?” The corner of Jensen’s mouth curls. “There _will_ be consequences.”

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Later that afternoon, they’re in Jared’s room, Chad sprawled out in the desk chair like he owns it. Jared’s lying on the bed, basketball clasped between his hands, resting on his belly, stack of pillows piled up under his head.

“Consequences, huh?” Chad grins. “Sounds like fun. Maybe you’ll get your ass beat, after all.”

Jared’s face goes hot, a little too quick to picture that, flashes of Jensen touching him running through his head. He twirls the basketball between his fingers. “Maybe. I just wish I could figure out what he meant.” He really doesn’t have much to go on. If it’s not anything to do with thermodynamics… what the hell could it be?

“Who fucking knows, right? I still can’t believe he read that shit in class.”

“I know.” Jared pauses; something about what Chad just said catching him for a second.

“Come on, man.” Chad jumps up from the chair, feet thudding to the floor. “Let’s go eat. I’m starving.”

*

His mind circles back to it again and again while they eat dinner, only half-listening to Chad and Tom. 

Tom shoots a straw paper at him to get his attention, gives him a lop-sided grin. “So? What’s his name?”

“Huh?”

“The guy you’re day-dreaming about. Come on, Jared, I know that look.”

“Nothing.” He shrugs. “Nobody.”

Tom leans closer across the table, narrows his eyes playfully, and Jared feels a twitter of panic go rushing through him.

“Ah, he’s just fantasizing about Mr. Ackles,” Chad says, clapping Jared on the shoulder a little too hard. “Right, Jay?”

Jared stares at him for a long second that feels like forever until Chad turns back to Tom. “Like _that’s_ ever gonna happen,” he adds with a loud, hearty laugh, and Tom nods, chuckling along. Jared breathes a silent sigh of relief when Tom looks satisfied and sits back in his chair. Chad might not be the classiest guy around, but he knows how to keep a secret, and the fact that he’s so good at lying should possibly worry Jared a little more than it is right now.

“All three of us with the unrequited love,” Tom says, bitter smile tugging the corner of his mouth. He picks up the straw paper and starts taking it apart with tiny pinches.

Chad launches into a Sophia story right on cue, and Jared’s brain goes back to circling.

He gives up for a while when they hit the lit basketball court on the way home, leaves sweaty and victorious, bouncing the ball against the sidewalk the rest of the way. 

He always showers in the morning. Some people have coffee; Jared likes showers, the feel of hot water on his skin, blood flowing, waking him up. And of course, his hand slicked with soap, wrapped around his cock, back to the cool tile and gasping into the steam. He’s been fantasizing about Jensen in the shower for weeks, but it’s totally different now. He can feel the way Jensen touches him when he closes his eyes, imagines hands moving over skin, around his dick, inside his body. He comes fast and hard like a gunshot, groaning behind his teeth, so turned on he’s tempted to go another round.

He doesn’t, though; decides to wait and save it for whatever is going to happen later today. He steps out and grabs a towel from the rack, smiling as he imagines. That’s when it hits him that he still hasn’t come up with an answer.

He thinks about asking Sandy at lunch time—she’s pretty good with puzzles. But there is just no way he can explain this to her. The list, Jensen. Chad’s the only one who knows, and Jared plans on keeping it that way.

He spends all of seventh period watching Jensen talk and move, imagining seeing those muscles ripple under bare skin instead of a suit. It’s a near thing, finishing his assignment before the bell rings, but he pulls it off with seconds to spare. 

After everyone else shuffles out, Jensen takes his time finishing up whatever the hell he’s doing – shuffling books and papers back and forth, like Jared doesn’t even exist. It makes him squirm with waiting, until he feels like he’s ready to pop, until he wants to just get it over with, tell Jensen he doesn’t know the answer so he can just… stop thinking about it. But Jensen just keeps on rearranging things on his desk; he’s got to be torturing him on purpose at this point. Finally, he calls Jared up to the desk. Jared stands there for a minute, tries to wait patiently until Jensen’s done. When he is, he pushes his chair back and stands up, hands slipping into his pockets.

“Do you have an answer for me?”

“I really tried. Just… I couldn’t figure it out. If it’s not thermodynamics…” Jared shakes his head.

Jensen just looks at him, then he gives a little nod, pushes his glasses to the bridge of his nose and walks around the desk. He keeps walking, until he’s behind Jared, and Jared turns to look at him, finds him standing there with his arms folded, looking Jared over. 

“Take off your shoes and socks.”

That’s kinda weird, Jared thinks, but bends to comply. Tugs the bows on his dress shoes open and pulls them off, silk socks following, and then it all makes sense when Jensen says, “Take off your clothes.” 

Jared feels suddenly shy; even with everything they’ve done, he hasn’t been naked in front of Jensen before. Normally he’s not the slightest bit shy; he knows what he looks like and likes to show it off. But with Jensen, it’s… different. He lifts his fingers obediently, opens his jacket and shrugs it off. Pulls the tie loose and lifts it over his head, lets it slither to the ground in a flutter. Undoes the buttons on his oxford, looks down and watches his fingers move, anything not to look at Jensen right now. He slides the shirt off one arm at a time, belly too twisted, nerves stretched too tight to make any kind of show as he drops it. He fumbles a little at the belt, but gets the fly open easily enough, lets his pants slide away down his legs, artificially cool air of the classroom hitting his thighs. They pool around his ankles, and he steps from them easily. One last thing.

Jared hooks his thumbs under the waist of his boxers, maroon silk soft against his fingertips. He bites into his lower lip, hitches in a breath and bends, pulls them until they fall by themselves, steps out of them and lets his hands fall to his sides, not sure what to do now. He stares at the toes of Jensen’s shiny black dress shoes, the pattern of mint-green and white tile under them, heart racing in his chest.

“Look at me.”

Jared raises his head, snaps his eyes up and pushes down hard against the fluttering in his belly.

“Good.” Jensen walks to him, strokes his fingers under Jared’s chin and lifts his head a little more. He stares straight into him, and Jared thinks he forgets to breathe, lost in the pull of gold-flecked green. And then Jensen lowers his eyes, and _fuck_ , he’s practically caressing every inch of Jared with them. Moving slow, taking in every detail, every line and curve like he’s making mental notes, memorizing every one. By the time he gets to his feet, Jared’s flushing, his cock aching and hard against the air. He takes his time going back up, too, and when he looks Jared in the eye again, his face is different; lined hard, almost pinched with tension.

“Turn around,” he says.

Jared spins obediently, Jensen’s fingers slipping away. More nervous than before, because now he can’t see Jensen, doesn’t know what he’s seeing, what he’s thinking. A long minute ticks by on the clock, sweat forming on the back of Jared’s neck, and then those fingers stroke across it, slide through the slickness and push him forward, just slightly.

“Get on the desk.”

Jared takes a breath and steps to the desk; it’s covered with papers, folders, stapler, tape dispenser, cup full of pens monogrammed with the school letters, and he has no idea how he’s going to fit on it. He climbs on, avoids the sharper objects placed along the outer edges, starts to settle his back among the stacks of papers and files.

“No. Face down.”

He turns over, still not brave enough to risk a glance at Jensen, sets his stomach down, stack of papers pushing uncomfortably against his knees, dick pressed against the cool, smooth wood. His feet dangle off the side, and his head dips uncomfortably over the other edge. His back is rigid, taut with tension and anticipation. He has no idea what’s about to happen, and yet, he can’t deny the excitement that flashes through him like a wave. 

Jensen walks around the desk, chair pulling out with sharp screech across the floor. Jared hears him settle into it, the creaks of wood, rustling of crisp material, more rough sounds against the tile as he scoots in. And then Jensen’s hand slides up under his knee, fingertips trailing skin, then away and—

Jensen’s pulling the stack of papers from underneath him. Jared holds his breath, waits for the next touch.

A piece of paper settles on to his back, held there by Jensen’s hand; skin hot, fingers pressing into his shoulder blade. And then Jensen begins to write, scrape and scratch, pressure point of the pen pressed through the crinkle of paper into his skin. 

Jared twitches, touch tickling, and the end of Jensen’s pen snaps down against the base of his spine.

“Hold still.”

Jared strains a little, stretches, then goes completely still beneath the sharp digs and graceful flow. Jensen doesn’t touch him beyond the weight of his hand against Jared’s body, the tip of the pen. Paper after paper, Jared’s dick pressed hard and full into the desk, and Jensen’s—writing. He makes use of every inch of skin as minutes tick by, writing and circling over Jared’s shoulder blades, down the length of his spine, all the way down to the curve of his ass. Once, he pauses, taps the capped end of his pen against the crease of Jared’s ass, like he’s debating something, then presses down with firm ink. 

Jared arches, just a fraction, readjusts his neck, and that capped pen comes down again, once, twice, three times.

“Hold. _Still_.”

And Jared can’t help it. “What are you _doing_?” Because seriously, what the fuck is _this_?

“Grading homework,” Jensen says, and sets the end of the pen down against the base of Jared’s spine. Lets it dig deep into the skin there. 

“But—“

Jensen cuts him off neatly, calm and precise. “You didn’t have the answer. That means you lay there quietly and be a good little desk for me. Remember, you're doing this because you want to. If you don't want to anymore, you can leave right now. Go home. Forget any of this ever happened.”

There are two actual seconds where Jared entertains the idea of sitting up, walking the fuck out—because, _seriously_ , who the fuck does this guy think he _is_?

The pen traces a sharp circle over the small of his back, and the page tears away from his skin. It occurs to him, then, that these papers--the ones Jensen’s making notes on, grading, with a circle around the letter _all over his body_ \--are gonna get handed out to the class tomorrow. No one will know that the letters sway and dip with the geography of Jared’s back. No one except them. And Jensen… Jensen _must_ be enjoying the idea of that. Everyone is going to touch these; touch Jared, touch _them_ … in a way. 

 

And, really, how can Jensen _not_ be getting off on this? Jared’s spread naked over his desk, for Christ’s sake. He knows Jared’s rock hard, knows he’s shivering and writhing inside, waiting. The way he trembles every time a piece of paper settles on him, that warm hand spreading out possessively.

This isn’t all just a show for him, Jared realizes. Not just about teaching him something or making him die of frustration. This is something for Jensen, too. And it’s a little weird, and a little strange, but if Jensen gets off on it… well, he can do it. 

It’s strange, the feel of the pen scraping over his skin. But he catches hold of it, concentrates on it, closes his eyes and lets himself go. Focuses on every swipe and touch, every drag, Jensen’s hand moving against him, heat of his fingers through the paper. Every stroke is magnified down to the millimeters, and Jared loses himself in it, in the sound of the clock and its ticking minutes.

He doesn’t notice when Jensen doesn’t add a new sheet of paper. Suddenly realizes that Jensen’s fingers are there, skin on skin, nails scratching light trails down his back and he has no idea how long Jensen’s been touching him like this. He sneaks a look from under his bangs, barely moves his head a fraction. Jensen has this little smile on his face, and—oh _God_ \--his hand is moving lower, tracing under the swell of Jared’s ass. 

Jared, moans, shivers; can’t help it. Jensen’s hands pause, fingers tapping out a rhythm. Waiting for something. Jared steels himself, bites down inside his jaw and stays _still_ , because Jensen didn’t say he could move. Notices he’s not tense anymore, even though he’s hard as ever, skin over sensitized. It reminds him a little of yesterday, Jensen reading his list while directing the class. And then… something kinda clicks.

He turns his head, words on the tip of his tongue.

“Yes, Jared?” Jensen asks like he’s calling on him in class, like his fingers aren’t doing a teasing dance down the center of him. 

“I think I… I think I get it. The lesson, I mean,” he starts, then bites the words back. It’s too late, he knows. Doesn’t change anything to get the lesson now.

“Tell me.” Jensen keeps doing things to him that make him want to squirm and it’s really hard to hold on to his train of thought.

“When you were… ungh… reading yesterday, my list, I thought you didn’t… nngh…I thought it disappointed you because you didn’t react. But you were… just waiting. The lesson was control, right?”

Jensen’s fingers stutter against Jared’s skin, just the slightest, slightest flutter. “Good.” Palms pressed against each of Jared’s cheeks now, spreading him apart, and Jared hitches in a breath.

“Spread your legs.”

Jared does, tries hard not to knock anything over, and he can feel Jensen’s weight pushing into him as he rises from the chair. Trails his lips across the base of Jared’s spine, trail like fire, and Jared can’t hold back a moan. Slick sleekness of tongue gliding down between, tip licking out. Circling, wetting the skin, long licks up and down, and Jared’s holding on to the desk with both hands by the time Jensen slips inside, tip wiggling, stretching him open. It’s fucking _glorious_ , tongue arching and curling inside him, fucking in and out with slow strokes. 

Jensen locks his mouth in a tight seal against the skin and-- _sucks_. Jared cries out, can’t help the twitch of his hips, but Jensen just spreads his fingers, presses harder, holds Jared still. It’s good, too fucking good, sweet suction, slow laps and twists of tongue, and-- _sweet Jesus fuck_ \--Jensen’s taking him so slow, reaching inside him and _tasting_ like Jared’s filled with honey and he wants to savor every last drop. Jared shakes uncontrollably, thighs tensing, dick painfully hard and needing to be touched, and Jensen just holds him there, makes him take it until he’s begging in a senseless stream of words.

Jensen’s hand moves, slides down lower, and Jared jumps when fingertips stroke down the sac of his balls. Finger pressing up into the spot just behind them, and oh _fuck_ , he can feel it go straight to his cock, feel it twitch and leak against the desk. No one’s ever touched him like this, played with him like this, and it’s incredible. Jensen sucks, sweeps the tip of his tongue just inside the ring of muscle, traces the shape, thumb and forefinger encompassing Jared’s balls around the top. He thrusts his tongue all the way to the thickest point, filling Jared suddenly and as Jared gasps, Jensen tugs his balls gently away from his body, thumb flicking up the base of Jared’s dick. And that’s fucking _it_. 

He comes with Jensen’s tongue in his ass, feels his body squeeze around it as he comes in hard, almost brutal bursts, biting into the back of his hand to keep from screaming, gripping the desk with his other hand to keep from thrashing. Jensen keeps tugging against his balls while he comes, tremors and shocks of pleasure shooting through him until he’s left thoroughly wrecked, limp against the desk, panting and trying to understand what the hell just happened. Jensen’s tongue slips from him and another tremor shoots up his spine, leaves him shivering.

“So fucking hot,” Jensen whispers, trails a hand up Jared’s back. “Barely even had to touch you to make you come, Jesus.” Jensen’s hands are pulling at his shoulders, turning him over. Jared doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he helps as much as he can. His shin knocks against the cup filled with pens; he hears it hit the floor and shatter, pens skittering every which way. Jensen doesn’t even blink, body coming down on top of Jared with all his weight, mouth covering his. He can taste himself, just a hint of muskiness on Jensen’s tongue, pulls it into his mouth and sucks on it, wants to give Jensen back some of what he just gave Jared. 

Jensen moans, hips thrusting, and Jared can feel him, hard, hot line pressing into his still-sticky cock. Jensen’s hands in his hair, all over his face, his chest while Jared sucks on his tongue, rub and grind of him through the polyester of his pants, shirt stiff, lightly starched. His belt buckle is an almost painful scratch and dig into Jared’s belly, but fuck, even _that’s_ hot, because Jensen’s all over him, covering him, touching him. 

He runs his hands down Jensen’s back, feels muscles flex as he moves, down to the end of his spine, the firm curve of his ass, and _God_ he feels good. He sinks his fingertips deep into the muscle, pulls with the motion of Jensen rocking into him. Lets go of Jensen’s tongue and kisses him instead, slow licks and laps against his lips, tracing the shape until Jensen seals his mouth over his, surges hard and deep. Jensen threads his fingers through Jared’s hair, tugging just the edge of painful, and his cock is already filling again, half-hard with Jensen’s pressed against it. 

“God, look at you,” Jensen whispers. “The way you want it, the way you need it.”

“Want everything, all of it,” Jared says.

Jensen’s hands go taut, pulling on him, body stuttering, stiffening. His teeth graze Jared’s throat, soft flesh caught between, marking him. Jared can feel him, cock rock hard and pulsing, heat rushing, filling his pants, wetness bleeding through to Jared’s body.

When it’s done, he lets go of Jared’s hair, pulls back and looks at him.

For just a second, he sees something—something open—like he’s really _looking_ at Jared. And then Jensen pulls from him, sticky and sweaty. Stands on his feet and puts himself together, piece by piece, moment by moment. Glasses first, set evenly onto his nose, hands smoothing through his hair, then over his jacket, tie settled into place. Pants pulled back to his waist, rested easily on his hips as if there were no spots staining the crotch. 

He walks to the mess of Jared’s clothes on the floor, picks them up, sets them on the desk one at a time. Jared takes them, puts on his oxford, fingers awkward against the buttons. Throws on his jacket and shimmies off the desk into his pants. Jensen pulls a roll of paper towels out from somewhere inside the desk, cleans the sticky mess from the desk top with a few squirts of cleaner. Jared gathers his things in his hands, watches, wondering if he should help—but then it’s done, paper towels wadded, tossed into the trash bin.

Jensen bends, takes the briefcase from under his desk and rises, meets Jared’s eyes without hesitation. “See you tomorrow,” he nods, turns his face and breezes from the room.

He is complete and composed, edges of his suit jacket flaring just a bit as he steps through the door. But there was that second… that one moment. Wasn’t there?

Wishful thinking, Jared knows. He bites down on his lip and slips his shoes on, throws the rest of his clothes into his bag. 

*

Normally he’d call Chad as soon as he’s out of the building, but Jared takes his time, meanders on his way home. He feels… different, a little bit. Nothing he can quite explain except for that moment of understanding he’d had while being Jensen’s desk. It seems kind of silly now, outside the classroom. That he’d been able to hold still, that he’d had a “revelation”. He ducks his head, feels his cheeks flush. 

But then he thinks back to it, remembers what it felt like, being relaxed and peaceful like that, and it doesn’t seem silly at all. And so what if it sounds like some kind of zen new-age bullshit? It’s not like he’s going to tell anyone. Not even Chad, he thinks, finger hovering over the speed-dial button. Because that… that’s something between him and Jensen. He feels his cheeks flush again, shoves the phone back in his pocket and smiles the rest of the way home.

*

_Shit, shit shit, where the fuck is it?_

It’s early morning, sun just starting to bleed in through the blinds in his bedroom, and Jared’s two minutes from needing to walk out the door if he’s going to be on time. He digs into a pile of dirty clothes in the corner, flings them across the room one by one. Throws open the closet door and runs his hands through every single piece of clothing there, even though he knows there’s no way it’s in there.

 _Goddamned fucking tie_. 

He tears the room apart for the fifth time and still comes up empty handed, eyes the clock with irritation. Being late isn’t that big of a deal. Even the tie isn’t really _that_ big of a deal. It’s not like any of his other teachers will do anything about it. But _Jensen_ …

He grabs his pack, snags a bagel from the bag on the kitchen counter and meets Chad on the sidewalk three minutes later.

*

When he gets to seventh period, there’s a new mug holding Jensen’s pens, not a trace of ceramic shards on the floor. He’d been distracted enough to forget about it before leaving—usually does leave too distracted and sated to notice much of anything. Jensen’s sitting behind the desk in his gray suit, fingers playing with the arm on his glasses as he looks through a notebook, and Jared hurries by, doesn’t risk much more than a glance. 

He’s gotten crap in every single class today, though no one actually dared write him up, and Sandy and Chad teased him over lunch about starting a tie rebellion. He played along, revealed his great “tie-less” plan to them, the power and symbolism of the tie throughout time as an indicator of status and how all men should live in equality. Chad had taken off his tie, too, playing along until he got distracted by snapping Sandy with the tip. The tie had been thoroughly soaked in apple juice by the time Sandy gave it back, and Chad’s still muttering under his breath about the smell.

It had been fun, and he’d almost forgotten for a little bit about seventh period, and what was going to happen when Jensen saw him. He chews nervously on the end of his pen, forgetting to makes notes about whatever Jensen is saying. Ten minutes later, Jensen’s divided the class up into small groups to work on a classroom project, so it’s actually pretty noisy when Jensen calls him up to the desk, everyone so busy talking that they barely glance up as Jared rises, dread filling the pit of his belly, little nervous shiver around the weight.

“Mr. Padalecki,” Jensen says, leans forward in his chair. “You know uniform protocol is to be strictly adhered to in this classroom.”

Jared looks down at the desk, nods. “I know, sir.” He doesn’t offer any excuses, knows Jensen wouldn’t listen to them anyway.

“Mr. Padalecki…” Jared lifts his eyes, drawn by the commanding tone. “Your behavior is unacceptable,” Jensen says, making a note with his pen in his leather bound notebook. He leans further across the desk, tilts his head back to look at Jared, expression severe. He runs a hand across the breast pocket of his jacket, and Jared’s eyes follow the movement—and _damn_.

There’s the maroon tip of his tie, peeking just over the lip of Jensen’s pocket.

“See me after class,” Jensen directs, dismissing Jared. Jared meets his eyes for a split second, swears he sees something glint in them before they move back to his notebook.

Jared walks away, vaguely stunned. All this time, spent all day worrying… and he fucking _had it the whole time_. It pisses him off for all of about two seconds before he realizes Jensen’s _playing_ with him. And he’s certainly not gonna punish Jared for not wearing the tie he obviously took before leaving yesterday. Right?

Or maybe, he thinks, wracking his brain, maybe the lesson here is that he should have been more careful about making sure he had all his things? Paid more attention? He pushes down the thoughts and tries to focus on the project, actually manages to make some contributions to it.

After everyone’s gone, Jared sits at his desk, watches as Jensen moves to lock to door—but he doesn’t motion Jared up, doesn’t look his way at all as he goes back to his desk. He makes a few notes on something, puts the pen into the new cup. Leans back in his chair, scoots out from the desk a little. Looks at Jared and crooks his finger.

He walks to the desk, uncomfortable and excited, cock pressing against his boxers, already half-hard. 

“Get undressed,” Jensen says, folds his arms and watches expectantly. 

Jared obediently unbuttons his shirt, and his cheeks feel hot, skin prickly, Jensen watching him with those eyes, scrutinizing Jared, like he’s inspecting him as his clothes peel away. When he folds his jacket and places it carefully on the student’s desk behind him, he sees one of Jensen’s eyebrows rise just a fraction, feels a hot rush of pride when Jensen nods like approval. He folds each piece, stacks it all neatly, and then stands there, dick rising from his body, gnawing on the inside of his lower lip. He wonders if he’ll ever get used to being on display like this—why it should bother him so much when he usually tries to show off.

“Clear my desk,” Jensen says. 

Jared swallows hard, realizes he’s going to be spending the afternoon splayed out naked across it again, feels his dick twitch. He moves everything carefully, arranging it on student’s desks in order so that it can be set back into place easily—and it’s incredible, the way he can _feel_ Jensen’s eyes on him, almost suffocating, stomach flip-flopping. Naked, on display, performing normal tasks, and this has _got_ to be turning Jensen on.

When he sets the last stack of papers down, his fingers are shaking. Takes a shaky breath and turns. The desk is bare, save a little bottle of lube set near the edge, and Jared feels his stomach drop out, mind whirling. Does that… is Jensen going to…? Oh, God.

Jensen gets up, does the button on his jacket, moves from behind the desk. Walks around until he’s behind him. There’s nothing for a moment, and then Jared feels something soft trail up the line of his spine, tip of it tickling. Jensen draws a path up over his shoulder, and then it drifts over, spills down his chest. Jensen’s hand brushes him as he reaches for it, and Jared shivers at the heat of his hand. Both hands come into his line of vision, tie pulled between them, and then Jensen settles it across his nose. The world goes dark as Jensen ties a snug knot in the back, ends of the tie grazing his back. It’s not like he’s been able to see most of the things Jensen’s done to him so far, but this is different. This is being left completely blind. It occurs to him, distantly, that he’d done this to Terry once, tied one of his mom’s scarves over his eyes and blindfolded him. The thought scatters when Jensen puts his hands on Jared’s shoulders, moves him forward until the solid edge bumps his legs. 

“Lay down,” he says, hot puff of air across Jared’s neck, goose bumps shooting in waves over his skin.

He can’t even think as he gets onto the desk, lays face down, legs spread, heart trip hammering, blood pumping through him in hot flashes. The desk is cool and smooth beneath him, skin sticking to it as he adjusts, slides into place, cock trapped between his belly and hard wood. He’s already throbbing, feeling like he’s going to lose it when Jensen touches him. Light feathering strokes up the insides of his thighs, teasing all around the crease of him. He tunes into every sound, every sensation, tries to get a sense of what’s coming. Jensen’s hands stray from their barely there touches, and Jared hears the snick of the bottle cap opening, goes completely still in anticipation.

The liquid is cold when it hits his skin, and he shivers, feels it pool in the base of his spine, then drip slowly down between, flow slick and heavy, running down the underside of his balls, every trickle like torture. Jensen’s fingers play in the slickness, draw spirals over the wrinkled bit of skin, dipping down behind his balls, glide back up, patterns traced over every inch of skin. Aware of every nerve, world narrowing to nothing but those touches, the way he presses into Jared, wiggles the flat of his finger until he’s just barely breaching the hole. 

“You’re so relaxed,” Jensen murmurs. “You’re getting used to this, aren’t you? Taking it like this.”

Jared nods, manages to push out a hoarse “Want it.”

Jensen makes a soft sound that Jared can’t quite decipher, finger pressing another millimeter—and then he slides inside, Jared’s body parting willingly. Jared gasps when he doesn’t stop, slick, slow steady pressure, finger filling him all the way. When his hand is against Jared’s body, Jared remembers to breathe again. God, _so good_ , only the slightest burn, and even that turns to sparks of pleasure when Jensen wriggles his finger, different than his tongue, so solid, heavy heat.

Jared groans into the desk, wills his hips to stay still. Jensen lets his finger rest inside Jared, until he’s practically trembling with want. And then, there is Jensen’s thumb, stroking over his balls. _Fuck, fuck, fuck_ \--he hisses in a breath between his teeth, feels himself skate close to the edge, tightness in his belly, cock a hard line of need leaking against his belly.

“One day…” Jensen says, voice soft and musing, like he’s distracted. “We’re going to find out if I can make you come without ever touching your cock.”

The muscles of Jared’s stomach contract and flutter, surge of pleasure through his cock, balls twitching. Jesus. 

“Bet I can, Jared,” he whispers, and his voice is a shivering breath against the curve of Jared’s ear. Nip of teeth grazing the lobe, and Jensen traces the shape with his tongue. Jensen bites and licks his way down the back of Jared’s neck, across his shoulder, finger shoved all the way inside and still not moving, lazily playing over the skin of his balls until he’s practically squirming, needing. Jared jumps with every touch of Jensen’s mouth, each one a delicious shock, swirl of tongue, grazing teeth, soft, wet lips, and God, all the way down Jared’s back. When he pauses at the end of Jared’s spine, kisses pressed into that sharp nub of bone, Jared feels like he’s hyperventilating, sweat slicking his skin everywhere. Heavy pant of breath against where he’s spread open and Jared jolts, completely unprepared for the way Jensen tongues the rim of skin pulled taut around his finger. 

His hips leap against the desk, too much, too fucking much, everything skin and sensation and need and Jensen. Can’t stop the ragged “Please,” that escapes him.

He feels Jensen mouth against him, breathing out, sensation exploding through Jared. “Do it,” he snaps, hard whisper that Jared feels. “Fuck yourself on my hand.”

His finger slides out to the tip; Jared’s arms shake as he pushes up with his hips, cries out against the quick pressure of Jensen filling him again. Jagged thrusts, cock slipping, sliding in sweat and lube on wood. Sweet rub and drag, rocking back and forth, fucking Jensen and fucking the desk, each move exquisite, ripping air from him. Jensen filling him, pulling away, cock pushing against the desk, thrust and grind, and God, he’s so close—

“Don’t you dare come until I say so,” Jensen warns. Jared tries, body skidding halfway through a glide, bites down and cries out, and fuck, he can’t stop, can’t stop, too fucking good and one more second—

His hips slam flat against the desk, weight of Jensen’s hand on the small of his back. Holds Jared still, pinned, edge of orgasm sharp as a knife in his belly, cock aching. For a second he’s stunned, balls still pulled tight, dick twitching. He’s never been so close and had it snatched away, and his body is surging, trying to push on. Then, Jensen’s finger slides free, and his brain catches up. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he gasps, quick, sincere. “Should have stopped, God, please.”

Jensen’s quiet for a moment, like he’s considering. Toys with the skin around the opening. And then… oh _fuck_ , slick fingers, two of them now, pushing inside stretching him wider than he’s been before, slight burn and maddening friction. Jensen flexes, fingertips crooking against that sweet spot inside, then pushing apart, opening him even wider, and oh Jesus, oh _God_ it almost hurts and it feels so good, whimpers into the desk. Jensen holds him down, palm digging into his skin, fucks him slow and hard, fingers pressing into him again and again, tiny explosions, one after another, pleasure so bright and hard. He feels a sob break from his chest, feels tears sting his eyes, and _Jesus fucking Christ_.

“Ask me,” Jensen pants, sounding out of breath. “You can’t follow instructions, so now you have to ask for permission, Jared.”

The words practically leap from him. “Please, can I come, Jensen? God, please, so sorry, didn’t mean…”

The weight of Jensen’s palm moves away. He slides his fingers in, then out, scissors and scrapes that point along the way. “Fuck my fingers, hard.” Jared shudders, obeys, lifts his hips, quick, brutal see-saw motions, and God, oh _God_. 

Jensen’s hand moves underneath him, closes around his cock. He whispers, “Come,” and Jared does, instantly. He comes so hard that the world drops away, nothing more than convulsions of pleasure, violent and brutal and endless, body wracked, drained, emptied, shivering uselessly, fingers twitching against the desk. 

“Good boy,” Jensen whispers, lets go of his dick and strokes a hand through his hair, fingers still teasing, little twitching movements inside Jared’s body. Feels each one like a fracture of sweetness. The blindfold falls free, a little later, Jensen pulls away, and the world starts coming back, slowly. Wetness on his cheeks that isn’t just sweat, muscles twitching randomly.

Jensen’s hands, gentle and clean, close over his shoulders, help pull him until he’s sitting up. He runs a thumb under one of Jared’s eyes, looks at him for a long second. “You all right?”

Jared manages a nod, neck like a marionette string being yanked up and down. “Just… never… like that, Jesus.”

Jensen smiles a little, pulls his hands away. “Good, because there’s still the matter of the mess on my desk.” He puts his hands into his pockets, walks around to the other side and takes his seat. Jared turns on the desk to follow him, trying to make sense of his words. His arms are folded expectantly over his chest again, head tilted down so that he is watching Jared over the rim of his glasses. 

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, raising his brows.

It clicks then. Jensen wants him to clean the desk off. Jared knows where the paper towels are, where the cleaner is—knows Jensen knows he knows. That’s what Jensen’s expecting…

Jared isn’t sure what moves him to do it. He slips to the floor, crouches down on his feet, cranes his neck, cheek sliding against desk. Lets his tongue curl out, sweep over the wood, bitter saltiness collected on the tip. It’s not like he’s never tasted come before, even tasted his own before, once or twice, but this isn’t like that. It’s pure, and thick, heavy and sticky as he gathers it, lets himself taste the fullness of it before he swallows. 

He risks a glance through his bangs. Jensen sits there, watches, hasn’t moved an inch. If he’s surprised, Jared can’t tell it, so he closes his eyes, concentrates on licking up every last trace. It isn’t easy; tongue imprecise for a true cleaning, little puddle after puddle gathered and swallowed, until finally he straightens his head, licks slow and deliberately across the desk, tastes the last few smears, mixed with the faint taste of lube.

It hits him then, what a show he’s just put on. His stomach goes loose with faint fear. What if Jensen thinks it’s too much? What if he thinks it’s weird? What if he’s mad Jared did it wrong?

He eases back on his legs, lifts his face, tongue running unconsciously over his lips as he looks at Jensen.

Jensen’s face is dark, flushed, sheen of sweat on his forehead, glistening on his cheeks. His voice is hoarse, stretched thin when he says, “Come here.”

He turns his chair toward Jared. “Kneel down.” 

Cold tile against his knees, and his heart isn’t slowing down at all. Jensen threads his hands in Jared’s hair, pulls him in. Meets his mouth with a slow, hungry kiss, licking over Jared’s lips, and Jared wonders if Jensen is tasting the remnants of sticky salt inside his mouth. He opens wider and tilts his head, lets Jensen all the way in. Feels him mapping the inside of his mouth, not missing a single spot, and then he pulls Jared’s tongue into his mouth, sucks it like it’s a piece of candy. Jared feels it all the way to his toes, sudden and intense, flushing through him.

Jensen pulls away with a quick, sharp nip of teeth, and then those fingers lace tighter through Jared’s hair, pull him down until his face is resting in Jensen’s lap. He turns his cheek, nuzzles in, feels Jensen through his clothes, brush of rock hard heat against his face. He mouths against the smooth weave, blows heat through the material, hears Jensen breathe in like a sigh.

Those hands leave him, for a second, just a second, and Jensen reaches for the button on his pants, flash of silver metal as it comes undone. Slides the zipper down and reaches inside. Jared heart stops, realizes what’s about to happen. Jensen pulls out his cock, hard and flushed red, glistening with precome, beads caught on the tip. Jared’s mouth waters, low moan deep in his throat, stomach turning somersaults inside, and God, he’s going to get to do this, _touch_ him, _suck_ him.

Jensen puts his hands back on Jared’s head, squeezes lightly with tips of his fingers, and Jared glances up. Jensen’s staring down at him, eyes burning behind the glint of his glasses.

“Your mouth is so hot, Jared. So hot it’s fucking _obscene_.” His voice is rough, raw. He tugs Jared in, cock head smearing wet against his lips, slick satin glide of skin. Jared opens his mouth, and Jensen pulls back, pushes just a little. Bumps Jared’s face, streaks his cheek. Jared follows the movement, turns his head and parts his lips around the head. Jensen’s whole body stutters—“Fuck, yeah. Like that.” He slides; hot, silky flesh melting against his tongue, and then Jensen rolls forward, shoves deep.

Jared moans, opens wide, feels Jensen hit the back of his throat. Hands caught in his hair, holding him, and Jensen pulls back, pushes in again. He tastes good, musky and salty, vague sweetness of soap on his skin. Jared molds his tongue to the underside, curls the tip and feels the center of Jensen’s cock slide over it, tracing a groove in the flesh. He feels Jensen shiver with the sensation, shove in harder, and _Christ_. Those fingers bearing down, holding him in place, Jensen fucking in and out with complete abandon, friction and heat across his lips.

"Good. God, so good. Good boy, taking me like this." Jared tightens down, sucks harder. It's messy, hot and hard, crazy angles and the shove of Jensen's hips. But it’s worth every second; the sounds Jensen’s making, the way he’s _riding_ Jared, getting off on _Jared_. He lifts his hands, strokes them down the front of Jensen's pants, moans, fingers settling on those hard thighs. Works his mouth and his tongue, sliding all around Jensen’s cock, heat building, frenzied thrusts. He feels Jensen’s cock twitch, go even harder, sucks with his lips and flutters his tongue—

Jensen pulls from him, sudden and unexpected, motion leaving Jared gasping. And then he sees Jensen’s hand gripped around his cock, quick, quivering jerks. Understands.

He closes his eyes, feels the first spray of liquid droplets, hot enough to burn--his cheeks, his chin. The next burst is just as searing, and again and again, and Christ it’s hotter than anything has a right to be, Jensen coming all over his face. He licks out across his lower lip, bittersweet saltiness on the tip of his tongue; catches a drop, hot and slick against the underside.

Finally he hears Jensen panting, open his eyes and looks up through the curtain of his bangs. Jensen’s looking at him, hand still curled around his dick, and there are beads of come in the strands of his hair. Somehow, it’s insanely hot, and even though he wants a better look at the blissed out expression on Jensen’s face, he doesn’t move--Jensen didn’t say he could.

His hands come down, fingers settling against Jared’s cheeks, rubbing up toward his eyes, and he lets them drift close. Jensen’s hands, warm against him, smear through the mess, sweep it over his features, into his hair. Smudging strokes, thumbs working come into his skin, the backs of his eyelids.

“So pretty,” Jensen growls, fingers gliding over Jared’s eyelashes, sticky trail dragging through. “So fucking pretty, with my come all over you.”

He paints him with slippery fingers, covers his whole face, skates his fingertips through, loops and whorls into the skin, drying crinkly. Across his lips, back and forth, slow tease of thumb, moisture thick at first, thinning, absorbed. Slips his finger into Jared’s mouth, strokes over his tongue and gives him another taste, Jared sucking, taking every bit. 

“Love it, don’t you?”

Jared nods, tongue circling Jensen’s finger. He feels a tingling like pride, knowing he’s giving this—making Jensen _feel_ like this. 

“So hot, the way you took my cock. How you wanted it,” Jensen whispers, digs fingers under his chin, tilts his head up.

Jared takes that as permission to open his eyes. He isn’t ready for what he sees, the utter heat and satisfaction, the indulgence. He doesn’t think, just knows what he wants to say can’t be conveyed with words. Rises up on his knees, kisses Jensen, fast and hard, desperate slide of tongue, hands rising to Jensen’s cheeks—

Jensen pushes him away, delicate licks and bites at his mouth, nothing of the urgency Jared feels, the need to _show_ what Jensen does to him. Pushes him back until he’s resting on his calves again, lips still twitching, wanting. Jensen wipes a hand across his mouth, index finger trailing the lower lip. And then he pushes back, stands and tucks his cock inside his pants. He’s too far away for Jared to touch, so Jared rises to his feet, takes a step forward.

“It’s Friday,” Jensen says as he zips himself. “Go home, enjoy your weekend.”

Jared feels the words rise, wants to say them, but Jensen’s not even looking, all business as he leans down, pulls the briefcase from under his desk. “But before you do…” he says, and now his eyes do meet Jared’s for a brief instant.

“Put my desk back together.”

Jared’s fingernails bite into his palms as he watches Jensen leave. He doesn’t understand. He’d broken through for a moment… hadn’t he? Left Jensen breathless and gasping, wanting him?

He stands, stares at the closed door, feelings warring inside him. Finally he turns, snatches his tie from the desk. Grabs the rest of his things from the student’s desk and puts them all back on. It doesn’t feel like it should when he’s dressed again; like everything’s normal and fine. It feels like he’s been taken apart and put back altogether wrong, bones scraping and grinding inside his body, clothes too tight, skin too taut.

It takes him half an hour to put Jensen’s desk right, the way that it was, the way he wants it. He remembers the precise order he’d dismantled it in, more sure of that than anything else that happened here today.

He stands and stares out the window at the slowly sinking sun for a while before he finally takes his pack and leaves.

*

It’s all he can think about on the way home, replaying every detail in his mind like a broken record. How different things were today when they started, Jensen only touching Jared in the ways he wanted to. So much more controlled than the day before. Until Jared had cleaned the desk, and then everything had changed. The look on Jensen’s face, the way he’d touched him with his hands, let Jared touch and taste him. His eyes, warm and content when Jared looked up. And then… and then…

He’d had to go and fucking ruin it. Try to kiss him, make Jensen feel what he felt. He should have just stayed, waited. Guilt fills his chest; he’s too sorry to be angry. He tries to imagine what might have happened if he’d stayed still, but can’t. Halfway into the third loop of repeat, he’s walking through the door of his house. He drops his pack on the couch and heads to the pantry, pulls out a package of Oreos. Then to the fridge, to pour himself a glass of milk. Finally, he sits down at the dining room table and looks out into the backyard. Jensen’s hands. The look on his face. 

By the time Jared gets to the sixth replay, he’s yanking his phone out of his pocket, speed dialing Chad. He spills it all out in a breathless rush—Chad doesn’t even get a single word in the whole time, which is some kind of record—and then starts going over the little details one by one, until finally Chad’s yelling at him on the other side of the phone.

“Jesus, Jay. You’re like a fucking crack head without a rock. Just chill.”

He realizes he’s out of breath, sucks in a deep lungful, and Chad takes the opportunity to finally say something. “You’re way over thinking it, dude. Not that big a deal. Guy’s got… whaddaya call it? CDC?”

Jared shifts the phone to his other ear, leans his head against it. “OCD?” 

“That the thing that makes you cut your grass with scissors and shit?” 

Jared pauses. “Um, yeah. I guess it could do that. They call it Obsessive Compulsive Disorder,” he concludes, like that answers Chad’s question by itself.

“That’s the thing,” Chad says, triumphant. Jared can hear him snap his fingers through the phone. “So he’s got this OCD. He’s a little bit tweaked, man. Like a meth head, without the drugs. Shit, you remember Karen, right? Girl used to make lists for fuckin’ _everything_. Used to buy her eggs one by one so she’d always have six in the fucking fridge. Anything else and she’d lose her shit. Control freak, right? So Mr. Ackles, he’s like that too.”

“Hunh,” Jared says, thinks. “I don’t think that’s it, exactly.” But he does _feel_ better. A little bit. 

“Whatever, man.” He can practically hear Chad shrug. “Anyway, don’t fucking sweat it. He probably woulda left no matter what. I mean, what’s he gonna do, anyway? Spend the night with you at school?”

The idea hits him like a thunderclap, and he stops pacing. “Chad… sometimes you are fucking brilliant.”

“I’m always brilliant, dude. You just don’t pay attention.”

“I’m a terrible friend,” Jared says, feigning sadness.

“Yeah, you suck,” Chad shoots back. “Wonder I put up with your chump ass. So, what’re you gonna do?”

“I’m gonna go to his place.”

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

It takes Jared at least five minutes of standing on Jensen’s porch to finally get up the nerve to knock on the door. The minute or so that he waits for an answer seems like an eternity, and he has entirely too much time to think about leaping over the rail and running, or maybe just hiding behind a bush. A dozen opening lines run through his head-- _Really, I’m not stalking you in a creepy way—No, this isn’t a booty call—Come here often?—Singing telegram!_. He hears the knob turn and takes a deep breath, steels himself.

He's not prepared for what greets him when the door opens.

The glasses are there, perched on Jensen's nose, but that's the only thing that's familiar at all. His dark blond hair is ruffled; spikes a little wilder than usual, like he's been running his hands through it. He's dressed in faded blue jeans, the kind that look well-worn and would feel velvety soft if you touched them. His pale green shirt is open at the throat, two buttons undone, and Jared can see the hollow place where his collarbone dips. It's the most skin he's seen Jensen expose—at least until he notices Jensen's feet are bare beyond the cuffs of his jeans.

Jared's speechless for a second, can't do anything but stand there and stare. It's not like he expected Jensen to answer the door wearing a suit, but seeing him like this… Jared would have thought he'd look… smaller, diminished somehow in normal clothes. But he doesn't. He looks hotter than Jared's ever seen him.

Jensen's leaning against the doorframe, book in his hand, index finger holding his place between the pages. "Jared." He doesn't seem angry, or even surprised, just calm, professional, totally neutral. 

Jared takes a breath and goes for it. "I was thinking about the lesson, and I know me being here doesn't probably show a lot of control, but... I was wondering. Does being able to control yourself mean you never get to do anything you want?"

Jensen blinks, and his expression shifts a little, glint in his eye as he looks at Jared. "Brilliant, how you've demonstrated the nature of the question by showing up on my doorstep to ask it."

"I thought it was a nice touch," Jared grins.

Jensen squints behind his glasses, thoughtful, straightens his shoulder and stands. Finally he takes a step back inside, opens the door a little wider like an invitation. 

Jared steps through the doorway, heart pounding fit to burst, hands shaking. He's too aware of the way his shoulder brushes against Jensen's as he moves past him, flash of heat shooting through him. He has no idea what's about to happen. It's the same rush of fear and excitement he always gets when he's with Jensen. It turns his stomach inside out. Makes him hard.

It's cool inside the house, shadowy in a cozy way. The living room seems as calm as Jensen; shades of white, gray and black, sprawling couches, low tables, tasteful and somehow welcoming, in a Spartan way. Music plays in the background, so low Jared can barely pick out the strains of a violin. It smells of cinnamon, rich and sweet.

Jensen takes the lead, another brush of shoulders, whisper of his jeans rubbing together. They aren't exactly skin tight, but they're a lot tighter than suit pants. The way they fit and cling to him, the way he moves in them, it's mesmerizing. Jared's dick twitches against his belly, wanting.

Jensen sits in the cushioned chair facing the open area of the room. He motions, and Jared moves to stand in front of him. He sets his book down in his lap, adjusts his glasses and settles back, one hand under his chin. "Strip from the waist down," he instructs.

He strokes a finger along his jaw, watching as Jared unbuttons his jeans. 

"The answer to your question is complex," he says, like they are in class, having a discussion. Like Jared isn't stripping in his living room. "Have you figured it out, yet?"

"I'm still working on that part," Jared admits. He toes out of his shoes, bends to peel off his socks. Rolls the socks together and tucks them into one of his shoes, sets them neatly aside.

Jensen's eyes flick to track the movement, then move back to where Jared is unzipping. "When you decided to come over here, did you think about it first, or did you just do it?"

"I thought about it." Jared flushes a little as he pushes down his jeans, wriggles his hips. Legs bared, cool air stirring his boxers, and he's already hard, knows Jensen can see it. Wonders if he'll ever stop feeling like such a _kid_ every time he does this.

Jensen's eyes come to rest on Jared's cock, where it pokes out awkwardly, tenting his boxers. Jared feels heat climb the back of his neck, embarrassed. He tugs at the waistline, shimmying from them. He bends, folds his clothes and sets them on top of his shoes, then takes a quick breath and stands up. His cock is full, flushed, pointing out from his body, tiny bead of liquid clinging to the slit at the head. The button-down he's still wearing feels strange against his bare ass, tickling and scratchy, front closure parted over his dick. It's more uncomfortable than being naked; he knows he must look ridiculous only half-naked like this.

Jensen rubs a lazy thumb under his lower lip, looks at him evenly. "Did you ever consider _not_ coming here?"

That makes Jared pause. "No," he says, slow and thoughtful. No, that had never even been an option, except for in the abstract sense. It surprises Jared that it hadn't occurred to him at some point. Not that it would have stopped him if he did. But it seems odd that he never even thought about it. 

Jensen nods, thoughtful, folds his arms over his chest. "Control can be wanting something, and not doing it. But control can also be deciding to do something you want. What do you think the difference is?" 

Jared knows there's a connection between everything Jensen's saying, but he can't quite grasp it. Chews his lower lip, trying to fit the pieces together. "I'm not… sure."

Jensen nods, hand on his chin moving to point. "Go to the desk over there, and lay your hands flat on it."

It suddenly reoccurs to Jared that he's half-naked in Jensen's _house_ and he can't believe he forgot, even for a second. He was _that_ deep in thought. He turns, walks, carpet soft and plush beneath his bare feet. Spreads his palms flat across the desk, and he has to bend over to do it, tall as he is. He can feel his shirt slide up his back, cool air against his balls as he spreads his legs to get better balance. 

"Spread your legs wider," Jensen says.

Jared's face goes hot as he walks his feet further apart. He feels so _exposed_ like this. 

"Good," Jensen says. "Now, _do not move_ until I tell you otherwise. In the future, when you come to my house without permission, you will strip from the waist down and assume this position—without being told—and wait until I am ready for you."

"Yes, sir," he answers.

He's acutely aware of the position he's holding, the view Jensen must have of him. He wonders if Jensen's actually enjoying it or if he's just having fun at Jared's expense. He sneaks a peek to the side, looks at Jensen out of the corner of his eye. Jensen's pulled together here, somehow even more composed in his own element. He lounges in the chair, bare feet propped on a hassock, as _Flight of the Valkyries_ plays, pen sucked between his lips, intent on his book.

He remembers when he realized before how this was something for Jensen, too. Not about humiliating Jared, or simply teasing him. This must be doing _something_ for him, but damned if Jared can see it in his face. Jensen's not even looking at him.

_Control can be wanting something, and not doing it. But control can also be deciding to do something you want. What do you think the difference is?_

Wanting something and not doing it… Jensen's infuriatingly good at that. But then… he's doing… whatever this is with Jared, and he must want that. 

_When you decided to come over here, did you think about it first, or did you just do it?_

So maybe… having control means making an informed decision instead of just… acting without thinking?

He loses himself in the thought, turning it over and over, this way and that. He has no idea how much time has passed when he feels Jensen touch him, wasn't even aware that Jensen was so close to him. Jared barely has time to register it, the small circle he makes and then—

Sting of pain, sweet and hot, skin stretching around Jensen's finger as he pushes inside Jared, sudden and complete, all the way to the top, filling him. He tries to gasp, but he doesn't have room for air in his lungs, for anything else but Jensen, lube-slicked and already sliding out again. His hips twist, beyond his control, fingers scrabbling across the desk.

Jensen moves up behind him, body curving against Jared's. In and out, and oh, _God_ , Jared feels like he's coming apart, pleasure and slight pain all through him, weaving in and out and in between, every nerve in his body tingling, throbbing, aware. 

"Fuck, so good," he moans.

Jensen's teeth close over his ear, flash of hot tongue against the shell. "So hot, the way you take it. The way you let me."

Jared can't speak as Jensen rubs against the spot inside him, stomach convulsing, fluttering, cock twitching.

His voice is heavy, thick in Jared's ear, like a serpent's hiss. "Coming here like this." Jensen presses a hand between Jared’s shoulder blades, bends him over a little more as he thrusts his hand into Jared. Slick slide and drag out, Jensen filling him, body and voice. "Coming here so I could do this to you." 

"Came here for _you_ ," Jared pants.

Jensen suddenly stills against him. It's a moment where Jared's stomach swoops out, heart thundering in his chest, blood pounding. He knows he should be worried—he _is_ \--doesn't want this to end, but damn it. He said what he meant, and he's not going back on it.

"For you," he says, turns his head, meets Jensen's eyes from the corner of his, cranes his neck harder, tries to kiss him.

Jensen doesn't move, except for the hand that rises to touch his lips, holds him at bay. Fingertip stroking over Jared's mouth, smoothing, smearing.

"We're going to play a game," Jensen whispers, moves to the side a little so Jared can see him better, and leans in. His eyes are dark, intense. "I'm going to ask you some questions." Jensen's mouth is so close; barest brush of plush skin around the edge of his finger, promise implicit. "And for every answer you get right… you can kiss me."

His finger trails away, across Jared's jaw, fingers settling along his cheekbone. He holds Jared like that, mouths almost touching, and Jared's skin feels too hot, too tight, the warmth of Jensen's lips so very, incredibly close. When he speaks, Jared can feel his breath spilling out, over Jared's lips, inside.

"When is my birthday?"

The words don't make sense for a second, Jared too caught up in the moment. Then they hit him, like a punch to the gut. He knows the answer to what Jensen's asking, but he _shouldn't_. His stomach tightens, and he doesn't want to answer, but Jensen's finger is still inside him, and he's _right there_ and Jared _really_ wants to kiss him.

"March first," he breathes.

Jensen nods, nose brushing against Jared's, and Jared leans in, lets his eyes flutter closed. Kisses those smooth lips, slides his tongue inside. Jensen meets him, and Jared circles tentatively, heart pounding. This is… this is different. Jensen's not leading, not controlling it at all, mouth soft, pliant, kissing back slow. Their tongues are a slick, hot tangle, and Jared's hand trembles as he lifts it from the desk, comes to rest with his fingers cupping Jensen's jaw. He pushes a little deeper, tongue tasting, mapping, and Jensen breathes in sharply, hand on Jared's cheek pulling him in. It's amazing, so _good_ that it's criminal. Jared can feel it all the way to his toes, warm rush like wind all through him.

Jensen pulls back a little, just enough so that he can whisper into Jared's mouth, lips moving against his. "My phone number?"

Jared whispers the numbers back, and Jensen moves his head up and down, barest of nods, lips grazing over Jared's. Jared catches Jensen's lower lip between his teeth, gentle pull, licks across the edge and feels Jensen make a low sound in his throat. He nibbles, nips, licks inside and swirls, roof of Jensen's mouth, shape of his teeth, softness of the inside of his cheek. Their chins bump, then turn, angling as Jared kisses him, more insistently this time, thumb pressing into the hollow under Jensen's jaw.

When they break apart this time, they're both breathing fast.

"Tell me my middle name." Jensen's eyes are dark, hazy, slightly out of focus as he stares into Jared. 

Jared sighs the word as he surges, closes his mouth over Jensen's. Finally pulls his other hand from the desk and turns inside the circle of Jensen's arms, settles it on Jensen's hip. He feels Jensen's finger slide out of him with the motion, just the tip inside, angle not right anymore. But Jensen doesn't stop him, just kisses back, pressed against him, chest to chest, hip to hip, letting Jared kiss him like this, finger still barely inside Jared's body, and it's so fucking _hot_. Jared feels like he's going to burn up, spin apart. 

"Why do you know these things?" Jensen whispers, words painted against Jared's mouth. 

There's not a right answer to this one, just the honest one. Jared doesn't hesitate. "Because I read them, in your files."

"Why did you care?" Silken flutter of slick skin, his voice low and deep.

"Because it was you," Jared breathes. He's too far gone to think the better of his words. "Because you're… _you_." Doesn't know how to say it any better than that; it's too much to say anything else.

Jensen looks at him-- _into_ him--like he's gauging the depth of Jared's words. "Kiss me," he says.

His hands catch Jensen's face between them, fingers sinking into smooth skin, palms skating over the faintest trace of stubble. Little licks and bites against his lips, tongue tracing the shape and swell. Breathes into him before he glides between, wraps his tongue around Jensen's. Jared kisses him, rough and messy, tongues twisting like they're dancing, fighting. Click and collision of teeth, and Jensen moans, giving back now, not just following, mouth and fingers and tongue pressing into Jared, searing like brands. He's hard, God, so hard, and so is Jensen behind the buttons on his jeans, wide and full and shoved right up against him. It's perfect, it's fucking _perfect_ is what it is, and Jared tightens his fingers against Jensen's cheekbones, pulls him in and bites his lower lip, suckles it into his mouth, teeth scraping lightly before he pushes back in for another taste. 

Jensen pulls away slow, pupils huge and black, scarce rim of green around the edge. Breathes deep, fingers sliding from Jared's face, trailing down his throat to settle on his chest. They're both out of breath, and Jared's knees feel weak, bubblegum soft, pulse thrashing. He wants to keep kissing Jensen---wants to do a whole lot more than that—but those eyes, that hand, keep him in place, hold him enthralled.

"Turn around," Jensen says. "Put your hands on the desk."

Jared pulls his hands away—it's physically difficult, like pulling away from magnetic attraction, and he has to force himself to turn. His thighs press into the edge of the desk, surface cool and smooth as he spreads his hands across it. He's breathing hard, shaking, mouth still filled with the taste of Jensen, wanting more. Jensen pulls from him, slides his finger free and Jared shudders, whimpers a little with the loss. 

"Spread your legs wider."

Jared does, bows his head. He doesn't know what Jensen's going to do, but he knows it's not going to be as good as—

Jensen is undoing his belt buckle. Jared can hear the tiny metal clasp clink against the buckle, can hear fingers working against material, buttons coming free. He forgets to breathe when those pants slither to the floor, Jensen stepping up behind him, fingers stroking down his hips. 

_Oh, GOD_. 

Jensen moves in closer, cock head pushing against him, teasing where he's still slick and open. Jared fists his hands against the desk and bites into his cheek, moans. Hot, velvety skin sliding up between him, slow drag and Jensen glides past, to up the base of Jared's spine, cock pressing in hard, thick width of him spreading Jared further apart. 

"Jesus _fuck_ ," Jared groans, grinds and pushes back into the feel of him.

Jensen's thumbs dig into the muscles of his ass, bare thighs pressed against the back of Jared's, pushing him harder into the desk, holding him in place. He leans into Jared, bodies locked tight together, and then he rocks back, cock head smearing wetness down the center of Jared. Rub and drag, friction of skin on skin and God, Jensen's cock, so fucking _close_ , head teasing over Jared's hole, again and again, that Jared can't do anything but think about how it would feel if Jensen leaned forward, rose up on the balls of his feet and _pushed_. He's hard as a rock, and Jensen's fingers feel like they're cutting furrows into the lines of his hips, holding him hard enough to bruise, his breathing short and tight. Jensen's mouth is a hot seal over the back of his neck, sucking, licking, mouth vibrating with low sounds, growls and moans, his body grinding into Jared's.

"God…" the word leaves him without thought, barely even aware that he's said it. “Want… want you to. Please."

Jensen thrusts his hips into Jared, fingernails biting. He lets go with one hand, slides it up Jared's body as he twists, shoves into him again. Fingers pushing inside Jared's mouth and Jared sucks them eagerly, greedy tongue sliding all around and in between the webs of his fingers.

"Want me to fuck you?" Jensen asks. "That what you want? Want my cock inside you, Jared? 

Jared moans around the salty taste of Jensen's fingers.

"God, you do, don't you? Want it so much. So fucking hot, how you want it, ask for it, practically beg me to give it to you." Jensen grunts the words, grinding into and all over Jared's ass. Mouth hot all over the back of Jared's neck, slick trails left behind, and Jared feels like he's going to _explode_.

"Yes, God, please yes."

"Listen to you," he says, fingers stroking over Jared's tongue, hips thrusting hard and fast. "Begging like a slut for my cock." He breathes heavy into Jared’s ear. “Such a good boy.” Jensen nips at his throat, just under the hollow of his jaw. “Not gonna give you my cock today, Jared. Not like that. But since you begged so pretty for it, I’ll let you have something else.”

He lets go of Jared's other hip, hand closing around Jared's cock. Jared stiffens, spine arching, gasp of heated breath between his teeth, Jensen's fingers still fucking his mouth, wants to hold out and can't. He spurts all over Jensen's fist in ragged, ropy strands tearing from him, so intense it almost _hurts_. Jensen's hips seem to crush into him, grinding, and he sinks his teeth into Jared's shoulder. Jared rides out the rest, gasping and shuddering and shaking apart inside, Jensen's slick hand jerking him until he's spent and useless, cock pulsing, nothing left to give but dry shivers of pleasure.

He's distantly aware when Jensen releases his dick, world coming back in slow, hazy sensations. Jensen's body pressed against him even though he's gone still, now, panting hot breaths into Jared's shoulder. He's still hard, pressed between Jared, and Jared just came so hard he thinks he might have to start a religion devoted to Jensen, but it turns him on all over again, cock twitching once, twice, straining to get hard.

Jensen pulls away from him, runs his hand between Jared’s spread cheeks. His fingers are covered with Jared’s come, and they leave him slick, wet. Both hands on Jared’s hips again, and he slides his cock up, teasing the hole again, it’s quicker now, looser, slip and glide of his own come as Jensen keeps fucking between him. His cock manages to rise to half-mast, just the feel of Jensen against him, doing _that_ , rubbing his dick all over Jared. 

“So good,” Jensen breathes, kisses the notches at the top of Jared’s spine. Harder, faster, frenetic rhythm losing its grace until Jensen’s hands sink into him like claws, body shuddering against Jared’s, crushed together as Jensen comes, groaning, hot pulses streaking Jared’s back, pooling in the base of his spine, dripping down between. Jensen stays there, fingers relaxing, thumbs pushing into the mess all over Jared’s ass, streaking and smearing it into skin. 

“So hot, my come all over your ass,” Jensen whispers behind his ear, thumbs circling.

He steps back, puts his hands all over Jared’s ass and keeps rubbing, over the curve, underneath, in between, massaging the stickiness until it dries. When he’s done, he turns Jared’s face and kisses him one last time. 

“Now,” he says, pulling back. “Get dressed, and go home. Do not clean up. I want you to feel my come on your skin for the rest of the night.”

It’s so deliciously wrong that Jared’s nearly hard again by the time he leaves. He does what Jensen said, and it’s weird… almost intimate, like Jensen’s with him somehow for the rest of the night. It’s also crazy hot, and Jared stays turned on through hanging out with Sandy and Chad all evening—has to stop in the mall bathroom and get himself off. He jerks off three more times before he goes to bed, cock rubbed red and sore. 

*

The days fly by, Jared staying after class every day, and Jensen does things to him that make his brain melt, again and again as they work their way through the list. It's never quite like it was at Jensen's house. Jensen's barely letting Jared touch him, and Jared wants so badly to make Jensen go as crazy as Jensen makes him. Wants to kiss him again, long and slow and lazy like he did at Jensen's place.

He's more than a little infatuated, he knows. Obsessed might be a better word. Tom and Sandy won't stop bugging him to spill about whoever he's seeing, but he just smiles, shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders and acts like they're insane. They pelt him with napkins and straw wrappers, Sandy tickling him and threatening violence, Tom trying psychological strategy instead of physical. He keeps quiet though, until finally they throw up their hands and stop pestering him. Chad won't stop teasing him about it, but all Jared can seem to summon in response is a grin that makes Chad roll his eyes and make retching noises.

On Monday afternoon, Jensen has him sort some papers and make a few copies for him. It's just a quiz, one for the advanced Physics class, a test they'll be taking on Thursday according to the note. He's watching paper shuffle out of the copier, lines of neatly computer-printed text falling into the tray, one after another. And then the words catch his eye.

_Duality. Uncertainty. Entanglement. Irreversibility_

He doesn't know what any of them mean in terms of Physics, but he knows what they mean in plain English. He runs his fingers over them, again and again, words dancing inside his mind in a series of steps, pausing on the last two again and again.

Jensen ignores him in class except for in the most professional sense, asking him to turn in assignments or answer a question here and there. He tries to be good; tries to understand the lessons Jensen is teaching him. He tries… but by Thursday, even though he knows he's staying after class and that something amazing is going to happen, he can't stand the way Jensen won't look at him. It's like a game between them, he thinks, and well, he's always been the competitive type. He's not angry about it, but it's a _challenge_ and he's never been any good at ignoring a challenge.

On his way into class that afternoon, he bends over extra long setting down his things, stretches a lot during class, sucks on the end of his pen and eyes Jensen, lets his fingers trail over Jensen's as Jensen returns a test paper to him. Halfway through class, and he's tried every trick he knows, and just… nothing. Those eyes cool and calm behind his glasses, and dammit, Jared knows it's pure _want_ , but they talked about choices, right? He makes a choice, goes to Jensen's desk and asks for the hall pass. Lets the intent of what he plans to do in the bathroom show in his face, turned away from the class so no one else but Jensen can see.

And Jensen reads him, loud and clear. It's obvious in the look Jensen gives him. 

"No," he says, quietly, so as not to disturb the class. "Go back to your seat, Mr. Padalecki."

Jared sits down and Chad raises a brow at him. Jared shrugs, sighs in response and opens his textbook.

Jensen makes him wait longer than ever after class, until Jared's feels like he's practically itching, clock ticking off minute after minute.

"Jared, stop fidgeting," Jensen says, without looking up. 

Jared can't quite hold back a sigh, and Jensen sets his pen down.

"I thought we were breaking you of this," he says, finally looking up.

"What? Fidgeting?"

"Your lack of control."

"I have control," Jared protests. He's been sitting here the whole time, waiting, hasn't he?

"So you just enjoy showing off in public?"

Jared bites his lip, tilts his head. "Sometimes." It comes out clipped, a little more uncertain than he means it to. It's just… embarrassing, admitting that, but he knows it's true.

Jensen doesn't seem phased. Blinks behind his glasses and leans his chin forward on his hand, like he’s genuinely curious. "And you're in complete control when you do this?"

He pauses, thinks for a second. He made the choice, so that means he was in control, right? "Yeah."

Jensen nods, like he's satisfied with the answer, picks up his pen and goes back to whatever he's doing. Jared manages to hold in his sigh, this time, tries hard to be patient. He listens to another fifteen minutes go by, hands on the clock tapping out steady rhythm.

Finally Jensen calls him to the desk. Jared's confused as he walks up, because Jensen's opening his briefcase, packing his things like he does when he's getting ready to leave for the day. “You’re leaving?” he asks. What the hell?

“Yes.” Jensen looks at him over the edge of his glasses. “Since you’re so sure of yourself, we're going to test your control.” 

Jared’s more than a little annoyed, now. Hands curling into loose fists, spine standing straighter. Jensen’s being curt, distant, almost challenging. “How?”

Jensen latches his briefcase, pulls it from the desk. "Go home. And _do not_ , under any circumstances, touch yourself, tonight, or tomorrow, until I tell you that you can."

Jared’s mystified. “That’s… that’s it?”

He could swear Jensen’s trying not to smile. “Simple, right? Shouldn’t be any problem at all for someone like you.”

“No,” Jared agrees, lifts his chin a little. He can do this. And if Jensen thinks he can’t, then, he’s got another thing coming.

Jensen nods, pauses before he turns away. "And Jared… I'll be able to tell, if you cheat. It's not hard to tell the difference between someone who's gone almost two days without coming, and someone who's come very recently. Just by the amount. And I _will_ be checking."

Jared’s left slightly angry by the implication, and incredibly turned on, and he wonders for the millionth time how Jensen does this to him, mixes him all up like this.

*

It's harder than he thought it would be. And yeah, _hahahaha_ , pun totally intended, because Jesus, he's as hard as a brick and he can't stop _thinking_ about it. After all day, being turned on, waiting for Jensen to touch him after class, and then not getting that, he'd be hurting anyway, but it's worse than that. It's like… because he _can't_ , he wants to even more.

He paces around his room, talks to Chad for a while. Chad teases him at first, then gives him a pep talk. Tells him he'll be fine, how fucking hard can it be, right? It's one day.

At 9:32 pm, staring at the clock, red numbers burning into his brain, he's finding out exactly how fucking hard it can be. Literally. Jared tries playing X-box, which works for about an hour until he's shot enough people that he's getting bored, and decides to go to bed early. No matter which way he turns, the mattress or the covers pull at his cock, teasing him, and finally he throws off the covers and rolls onto his back.

10:55, his clock beams at him, colon between the ten and fifty-five blinking merrily, as if it didn't have a care in the world. It's an overly cheerful function of an otherwise boring piece of machinery. He watches it until 11:03, and by then he's sure it's mocking him.

He sighs, stares up at the ceiling and runs a hand through his hair. He told Jensen he had control of himself, so why doesn't he right now? He forces himself to breathe, steady and slow, shallow breaths. He knows mimicking sleep breathing patterns helps the body relax, but between flashes of kissing Jensen and Jensen's hands all over his body and constant glances at the clock, it doesn't work worth a damn.

The last time he looks at the clock it's 1:47, and finally, he falls into a fitful sleep.

*

The morning is even worse. He considers not even showering. The temptation of being naked and alone seems like too much. But Jensen's smile mocks him in his head, and he turns on the faucet, vaguely angry and incredibly hard, again. Still.

He hurries through the process, reduces it to scrubbing, washing, rinse and out, hands not lingering anywhere. He’s half hard, off and on through first and second period, distracted by wanting to touch himself and wondering just how much Jensen’s getting off on this. Still, he’s starting to feel like maybe he can get through the day if this is a bad as it gets.

In third period, his phone vibrates. Jared pulls it out, flips it open. He doesn’t recognize the number on the text message, but it’s clear who it’s from the second he starts reading.

_ask for the hall pass right now. go to the bathroom. touch yourself, get hard, but -don't- come. – delete this_

_Jesus fucking Christ_. His brain’s a little stunned, reeling, heart somewhere in his throat, and his dick is already more than halfway to being hard just reading the words. It’s an incredible turn on; knowing Jensen’s thinking about him, about him going to the bathroom and doing this _right now_. But, goddamn, touch himself at this point and not come? He’s not sure he can do it.

He deletes the message before he does anything else. Sits there, palms sweating a little, heart hammering, and his cock is straining, even more insistent now—like knowing he’s allowed to touch himself makes it that much worse. Full and aching, and he can feel the material of his boxers where it touches him, every sensation heightened.

He can do this. He can do this. He’s got control, right? He chews on his lower lip, debating, then finally raises his hand, asks for the hall pass.

The green-tiled room is empty except for one other guy. Jared locks himself in a stall and waits until the kid’s gone, door closing with a hollow boom. He sits down on the toilet, breathing hard, hands shaking a little. Slowly presses his palm against the crotch of his pants, feels the grind of silk boxers and pressure against it almost like a physical blow, cock pulsing once with a throbbing surge of pleasure. He does it again, slides his hand down toward the head and pushes down, hips arching up to meet the touch. He hisses in a breath at how fucking _good_ it all feels. Cock flushed with blood, over-sensitized from hours of being half-hard. 

His phone vibrates in his pocket, through the material of his pants, so close to his cock that it startles him, sends a jolt of pleasure tripping through him. He fumbles a hand to his pocket, pulls it free and opens it with trembling fingers.

_take your cock out, stroke it with your hand, skin on skin. stroke it as long as you want, but do –not- come and do not do anything else until i say. –delete this_

He moans, low sound in his throat as he reads it. It takes him three tries to successfully delete the message, fingers unsteady, and then he slides the phone back into his pants pocket. He pops open the button on his pants, unzips them. Takes a deep breath before he reaches inside, pulls his cock through opening of his boxers. It’s flushed deep red, precome beading the head, and he barely gets it out before he has to let go, biting back a moan. The air seems freezing cold against the heat of his skin, cheeks and chest flushing with blood. Takes a minute before he feels ready to slide his hand underneath his cock, close his fingers around it. 

He strokes up the length, light, dry friction that makes his hips twitch, involuntary reaction that sends him careening towards the edge again as his cock jerks through his hand. He goes still; thumb resting against the head, whole body shaking, thin sheen of sweat forming on his skin. He thumbs across the slit, hitches in a breath, and drags the wetness down the curve of himself, watching it glisten and shine. It feels amazing, intense, skin on skin, dizzy with need, heart palpitating. And Jensen’s in class right now, teaching, probably imagining him doing this.

He wonders if it gets Jensen hard, whether or not he has to press against his dick every now and then. Jared slides his hand up again, slow, slow—wants to drag out what he’s allowed to have—imagines Jensen’s right here watching, eyes fixed on Jared’s hand. Slide up, and his belly coils, balls tightening, hips pushing automatically—fuck, he hadn’t realized he was so—oh God, so fucking sweet, pleasure spiraling up through him, rushing to release—

He yanks his hand away from his dick like it was on fire, hips fluttering uselessly against the air. His cock jerks against his belly painfully, contact sending a ripple of pleasure sputtering through him. It oozes out a tiny puddle of pre-come, and Jared sinks his hands into his thighs, digs his nails in hard. Holds his breath to swallow the cry stuck in his throat, the need pushing, kicking, thrashing in his belly.

Fuck. Fuck. _Fuck_.

He lifts his hand to his mouth, bites into the heel until he can breathe again, until he can feel something besides how much he wants—needs—to get off. The slightest touch is agony, cock engorged, swollen, so needy that even the brush of silk inside his boxers seems as heavy as his hand. Light drags and pulls of it against him as he stands, and Jesus Christ, he is so going to fucking lose it, he thinks, leans back against the cool, tile wall. Puts his hands in his hair and holds on, tries counting backward from ten and concentrates on holding his tongue from the roof of his mouth. He loses track of how many times he counts backward from ten, but he’s pretty sure it’s been at least five minutes, maybe more, before he can breathe right. If he doesn’t get back to class right now, Mr. Belzer is going to be wondering. Might even come in here looking for him.

Jared zips himself up, smoothes out his clothes the best he can. The stall door creaks when he opens it, and he pauses just long enough to wash his hands before he walks back to class, cock half-hard and rubbing against his clothes the entire time. 

He’s even more on edge now, nerves jangling and wound too tight. It’s not just need; it’s waiting for that phone to ring, anticipation and dread curling in his belly.

The next message comes just before the end of fourth period. Jared feels the bottom drop out of his stomach when the phone vibrates, and it takes him a minute just to be able to pull it out and look. His mouth goes dry when he reads it.

_come by my classroom before you go to lunch. i’ll write you a pass. –delete this._

Lunch is next period, same as Jensen’s prep period. Jensen’s never asked him to come by during school before.

His legs are shaky, rubbery as he walks through the hall, books held just a little bit in front of him instead resting against his hip. He doesn’t want anyone to see how hard he is, but it’s almost worse, the books pressing into his cock, bumping and sliding across him as he walks. It’s fucking torture, and by the time he makes it to Jensen’s classroom, he feels like he ran a marathon, has to pause and catch his breath before he walks in.

Jensen’s erasing something from the blackboard. He’s dressed in a light tan suit that’s doing absolutely amazing things for his ass as he stretches and leans up to get the last of the chalk. The bell rings, loud and shrill; Jared swallows hard, doesn’t have any idea what he’s supposed to be doing, so he moves to sit down in his usual seat.

“No,” Jensen says, setting the eraser down. “Come up to the board.”

Jared does and Jensen crosses in front of him, shuts the door and turns the lock. He has no idea what to expect, fear and desperate hope threading all through him. He turns to set his books down on Jensen’s desk. 

“Stand with your back against the board.”

Jared backs to the board until his shoulders touch it, the lip of it digging uncomfortably into the backs of his thighs. Jensen nudges his chair out of the way, leans against the desk with his hands in his pockets.

“Let me see,” he says, folding his arms across his chest.

Jensen’s putting him on display, which makes him blush and get even hotter all at once. He unzips his pants, starts to ease his rock hard cock through the opening in his boxers when Jensen’s voice stops him.

“Push your boxers down. I want to see everything.”

He feels exposed, vulnerable, and yet hearing Jensen say those words sends the most delicious thrill spinning all through him. 

He pushes his underwear down, pulls his cock out as quickly as he can, lifts his balls over the elastic edge. Jensen’s looking right between his legs, unabashed, like he’s gauging something. Jared feels blood rush, hot and embarrassed and fucking so turned on.

“Did you go to the bathroom during third period?”

Jared nods.

Jensen stands up straight, takes a step closer to him. “Did you get yourself hard?” He’s still looking at Jared’s cock and it makes the pulse between his legs pound even harder, until it’s all he can think about.

“Yes, sir,” Jared manages to whisper. 

Jensen’s eyes darken, and he steps even closer, strokes a hand up Jared’s thigh. Jared’s nervous system seems to misfire with the touch, body shuddering convulsively.

“And have you come yet?” 

Those fingertips, standing still against his skin, barely touching the crease of his leg. “No, sir.”

Jensen moves even closer, leans in next to him. “You haven’t, have you? I can tell just by looking at you. How on edge you are, how much you need it.” His voice drops to a gritty whisper on the last words. “I’m still going to have to check you, though, Jared,” he murmurs. “To make sure.” 

Jared’s head snaps back against the board, Jensen’s fingers tracing the curve of his balls. He palms them, cups them with his whole hand and Jared groans, eyes closing, body thrusting on pure instinct. Jensen rolls them in his hand, like he’s testing the weight, the feel of them. He doesn’t know what Jensen’s doing but it feels incredible, and kind of like… he’s _inspecting_ Jared. Which is just too hot for words, or even thoughts.

“That’s so good,” Jensen whispers, mouth close to Jared’s ear. “So fucking good, Jared. You’ve been a very good boy.” His hand barely squeezes and Jared moans, thrusts again. His dick is so hard it _hurts_ , but there’s nothing to touch, nothing to rub against. “Your balls, all heavy and tight. So full.” Low murmur of his voice and Jensen tugs on him, just barely. Jared gasps, stiffens, pleasure spiking up through his belly, volcanic hot waves of it.

“God, please, can I?” he begs.

“Soon,” Jensen promises. Jared whines when Jensen lets go of him, feels tears rise in his eyes, and fucking Christ he is going to _die_. 

Jensen steps back, tells Jared to take his time leaving for lunch. He sits down at his desk and writes out a hall pass for Jared, then moves on to reading something, back still turned. Jared stands there, tries to breathe, taste of chalk dust still thick in the air. After a while, the world starts to make some sense again, and a while after that, he can think about something besides the blinding need between his legs. Like why Jensen’s got his back turned. Sure… Jared’s standing behind the desk, but why wouldn’t Jensen want to at least _look_ at him?

And then it hits him; he’d never be able to calm down with Jensen’s eyes on him, and either Jensen knows that, or he’s just ignoring Jared again. He can’t quite decide which it is.

His dick finally relents enough for him to tuck it back inside, semi-hard against his belly. He zips and buttons, and the sound makes Jensen pause, turn his head towards Jared just a little. “See you in class.”

Jared nods, not quite trusting himself to speak. He’s not even sure he’s _capable_ , and something really nasty might fly out if it turns out he that he is. He grabs his books from the desk, then the hall pass, and makes it to lunch with fifteen minutes left to eat.

About half an hour into sixth period gym, his phone vibrates again. Jared’s sitting on the bleachers, sweaty and happy to have done a hard run, because at least it distracted his body for about fifteen minutes. He’s watching some of the other kids laugh and circle the track when it happens. Immediately, his heart speeds up even faster, and his dick, blissfully almost-limp for the last twenty minutes, stirs to life.

Nobody goes anywhere without their phone in this school, not even gym class. He reaches into his running pants and pulls it out, butterflies swirling in his stomach.

_be last to the shower. slick your fingers with soap and finger yourself. –don’t- touch your cock. i will check you after seventh period, and i will –know- if you fingered yourself. do it for as long as you want, but don’t be late to class. –delete this_

Jared may never have another coherent thought again. He puts the phone back in his pocket, plastic accidentally brushing the head of his cock. He shudders violently at the unexpected slide of contact; almost comes in his pants right fucking there on the bleachers.

He puts his face in his hands, spreads his knees apart and fights for control. His running pants caress him with little, satiny rubs, moving in time with his uneven breathing. It’s amazing, the way he can feel _everything_ , nerves he didn’t even know were there all come to life, full of blood and painful, desperate need. 

There’s fear working its way through the pit of his belly, too, all mixed with excitement and arousal. He’s never done that to himself before, wasn’t really much for it before he met Jensen—and Jensen knows it.

It’s ten minutes before the rest of the class starts to file inside, and he thinks he can walk now, maybe. He’s the last one in the doors, takes his time, dawdles in front of the lockers, fingers spinning the combination lock. It’s not like he can even get undressed with people still around, not in the state he’s in, but they’re not leaving fast enough.

“Hey, Jared.” Barry Whitmore slaps him on the back as he passes. “Nice moves on the track today.”

He manages to grunt out a _Thanks, man_ , hopes the smile on his face passes for something resembling the real thing. Too many people, all around him, and finally he just opens the locker, pulls out his clothes and heads to the shower. 

The showers in his school are fairly nice, private. Individual stalls with doors on the front; feet, head and shoulders visible to others. There are two free stalls when he gets there. He steps into the closest one, shuts the door and hangs his clothes over it, strips down inside. He’s pretty sure no one was paying attention to him, but it’s not like they’d say anything, even if they noticed.

He throws his sweaty uniform over the door, too. Turns on the spray of water with a shaky hand. The soap is right there, little shelf next to the faucet. He sets his hands against the tile, leans and lets the spray hit him in the face. Hard sting, hot water running in rivulets over him, through his hair, his spine. Outside, the sounds of the other people are fading, settling down, people drifting out.

Jared stands up, takes the bar of soap and turns it in his hands. It’s pure white, leaving bubbles over his skin, and he turns it until his hands are coated with slickness. He steps beside the spray, starts to reach between his legs, then stops before his arm can brush his swollen cock. He reaches around behind himself, instead. Slides his slick fingers down, between, feels them glide over wet smooth skin. His hips give a shuddering thrust as he circles over the opening, hot, tight, texture he hasn’t let himself feel on his own body, before. His dick is hard enough to cut diamonds, spasms of pleasure tingling through it as he teases himself, and the need to touch it is overwhelming.

His other hand grips the soap so tight it feels like he could shatter it. He presses in with his fingertip and hisses in a breath, stomach contracting, fluttering, sending sparks through his cock, his balls. He hesitates a second, then remembers he needs to hurry. It’s a little awkward, the angle isn’t quite right, so he spreads his legs wider, arches his back. He pushes inside slow, tight muscle closing around his finger—thinks, _this is what Jensen feels when he’s inside me_ \--and oh, God, he can feel it up through his spine, spreading out from lower back to hips, every single nerve in his body over-stimulated, rushing pleasure that seizes him from head to toe.

His finger slides in and out, easy, so easy, shallow strokes drawing gasps and shooting sparks. Jensen’s lips, skin, hands, those bare thighs pressed against the back Jared’s, swell of his cock between Jared’s ass. Would it have felt like this, Jared wonders, if Jensen had pushed inside? Or would it burn more, thick width of him stretching Jared open, filling him? 

His dick is humming, almost vibrating with need, but somehow, it feels better like this; pleasure spread out, singing through every part of him. Steam rises around him as he pushes back into his own finger, motion making his cock throb, and he doesn’t care, doesn’t want to stop.

The slam of a locker door nearby shatters his trance, and he comes back to himself, gasping and shaking, water beading on his skin. He lets his fingers slip in and out, once, twice, three more times, lower lip trembling, muffled whimpers swallowed behind his teeth. The locker room is almost completely silent now, and that means—

Shit, he can’t be late for class. He slips his finger free, throat locked against the disappointed moan that wants to escape him. His cock twitches and he bites his lip, squeezes the soap hard enough to leave finger marks in it. Washing and rinsing himself without touching his dick is one of the hardest things he thinks he’s ever done. He finishes showering in under two minutes, dries hurriedly and pulls on his uniform, damp now from the shower steam.

He makes it to seventh period _just_ before the bell rings, hair still wet, shivering with more than damp cold. He thinks he sees Jensen glance at him, but when he looks up from his seat, Jensen’s just sitting there, reading something Sarah handed him. She’s chattering on about whatever it is, and Jensen’s nodding his head like he’s listening intently.

Jensen leads them through a brief review on Thermodynamics and Jared tries really hard to pay attention. 

“A spontaneous process,” Jensen writes the term on the chalkboard. ”Is a chemical reaction in which a system releases free energy--most often as heat--and moves to a lower, more thermodynamically stable, energy state.” He pauses and turns to the class.

“Spontaneous changes usually smooth out differences in temperature, pressure, density, and chemical potential that may exist in a system. Entropy,” he continues, writing that on the board as well, “is a measure of how far this smoothing-out process has progressed.” He pauses and turns again, and his eyes meet Jared’s for a brief moment before they move on.

Jared feels the glance like a punch, and it sends him reeling back into what’s happening in his body right now. He grits his teeth, tries to concentrate on the rest of what Jensen’s saying, but it’s eluding him.

When the review is done, Jensen passes out quizzes, and when he lays Jared’s down, his fingers brush over the back of Jared’s wrist, fingernails scraping lightly. It happens fast, but it might as well be slow motion for Jared, barest touch of Jensen’s fingers sending a rush all through him, nerves tangled and standing on end. Jared eyes the clock and tries not to groan, prays for time to go faster.

Jared’s got his pen in his hand, staring at the questions. He knows the answers, of course, if he could just _think_.

_State the four laws, match the theory to the scientist, briefly outline the differences between chemical, statistical and classical thermodynamics._

He’s aware when Jensen gets up and walks from the classroom, does his best not to look. Not like looking at Jensen is going to help him think about anything Physics related. Everyone around him is bent over their desks in concentration, pens scratching against paper. He starts writing, hopes maybe the knowledge will just fall out of his head once he gets going.

And then his phone vibrates.

His hand stills against the paper, heart rocketing into orbit alongside his stomach.

The classroom seems very far away as he reaches into his pocket. 

_when i walk back into the room, put your other hand under your jacket and palm your cock through your pants until i tell you otherwise. be silent while you do it. –delete this_

Sweat trickles down his ribs, belly full of lead. His cock feels like it’s going to explode any second now, and Jensen wants him to touch it? He can’t do it, there’s no—

The door to the classroom opens and Jared’s cock leaps against his belly as Jensen walks in. All his skin feels too tight, itchy and burning up with heat, and _fuck_ , Jensen’s looking right _at_ him.

He leaves the phone at the bottom edge of the desk where he can read it easily when Jensen sends him more instructions, slides his hand under the front of his jacket, risks a glance around the room. Everyone’s still bent over their quizzes, lost in thought, which means no one’s looking at him, and the jacket’s there to cover him. So it’s just a matter of... matter of…

He presses the palm of his hand against his cock, fingers splayed open, and feels his belly churn with heat, sparks of pleasure so sharp they tear through him like tiny needles, edge of pain. Cock and balls flushed with so much blood, swollen flesh, teased to death all day and fuck, touching himself feels like setting off a supernova inside, burning up everything else in existence. 

He bites down on his index finger, pad of flesh caught between savage teeth, pen still in his hand. Presses his jaw hard against his hand, uses the pain to focus, to keep from spinning off the edge of the earth. The second press makes his knees draw up, hit the bottom of the desk. His balls are hot, tight, so huge and heavy as they draw up into his body, and oh God, oh, God, it’s too much, too good, oh fuck. He looks to Jensen, eyes pleading as he presses again, teeth biting deep into his hand. 

Jensen glances at him, just barely, and Jared watches as he reaches for his phone, presses a single button.

Jared’s phone vibrates immediately. He starts to pull his hand away, looks down with relief--

_make yourself come. now._

He stares at it in shock. Jensen can’t possibly mean it, can’t really expect him to come in his seat in a classroom full of people he knows. He looks up—

Jensen’s not joking. He’s sitting; chair tilted back, one hand under his chin as he watches Jared intently. 

Jared looks around again, everyone’s still engrossed, not a single person aware of the silent communication happening, the sudden electric heat Jared felt when their eyes met. His reputation, his whole entire social life is at risk if he gets caught doing this. He’s scared to death, but Jesus fuck, it’s hot, Jensen watching him, right here in public, the only one who knows.

His hand shakes as he pushes against himself, meets Jensen’s eyes. One. The pressure builds instantly, screaming up from between his thighs, filling his stomach. His eyelids flutter, teeth burrowing deeper into his skin, pain barely felt through the thunderstorm raging in his blood. It takes every muscle he has to keep from shaking, straining, fucking into his own hand. He forces himself to look, sees Jensen watching, dark and intent, eyes riveted to his face. Two. Pleasure and pain all at once, nerves too stretched too tight and full for too long. Belly taut, balls pulling in tight and Jensen’s eyes are like a physical touch, hungry and wanting more. He’s burning up, incinerating, sweat slicking his whole body, everything reduced to this one moment.

Three. It happens like an explosion, feels like the end of the world. His cock pulses violently, without warning, day of pent up need bursting out. His hips quiver, twitch without his permission and he shoves half a fist into his mouth, closes his eyes, holds his breath against the screams that want to come out. He holds his hand against his lap to keep himself from moving, comes against it like a gunshot, again and again, cock rubbing slick inside his pants, and that only makes him spurt harder. He feels like he’s _dying_ , wants to let go, give into it, let it own him completely. But he holds on to the thread of pens writing all around him, the irises of Jensen’s eyes watching in his mind.

It finally ends, cock still jittering uselessly under his hand, spent and still trying to give. Every muscle in his body feels like it was carved out of stone, tension of holding still wound so tight that when he tries to relax them, they knot in protest. He feels like his skin’s been turned inside out, brain useless as putty, and there’s sweat beading, dripping off the end of his nose. He feels tingly between his legs, relief like a sweet itch just under his skin.

He pulls his finger from his mouth, knows he bruised the fuck out of it—it already hurts. He can’t even believe he just fucking _did_ that. His face flushes bright red, and he can’t bring himself to look at Jensen, no matter how much he wants to. Jensen told him to do it, sure, but he probably didn’t think Jared actually _would_.

He feels ready to collapse, boneless and tired, spine melting to the chair. Instead, he sits up, sneaks a glance around the rest of the room from under his still-wet hair. No one’s looking, but that doesn’t mean nobody noticed. He takes another deep, silent breath, erases the final text message from his phone and starts writing. After all, Jensen didn’t say he was getting out of the quiz in his text message.

He only has about ten minutes left to finish before the bell rings, and he makes it with one and a half to spare.

He listens to the other students drop their quizzes on the pile on Jensen’s desk, wish him a happy weekend or good-naturedly razz him about giving tests on Friday. He can hear Jensen’s voice as he responds in kind, can’t tell a thing from the tone of it. He sounds as normal as ever.

 _The man is not human,_ he thinks. Stares at his test, prepared to wait a good long time for Jensen to… do whatever he’s going to do.

He’s surprised to hear the door lock shortly after the last student leaves. He risks a glance up and Jensen’s looking right at him.

“Come here,” he says. He’s taking off his suit jacket, cream-colored shirt flexing with movement of his muscles. Jensen hangs the jacket on the back of his chair as Jared walks to the desk, pants soaking wet, sticking to him.

“This side of the desk,” Jensen says as he sits down. 

Jared walks around to the other side, feeling awkward, limbs working like melted taffy.

Jensen looks him up and down, taking his time about it. Reaches out and touches between Jared’s thighs, cupping him through his clothes. Jared gasps, still sensitive, soaking wet cloth and Jensen’s fingers pressing all against him. “God. You really did come in your pants, didn’t you?” he says. There’s a strained note to his voice for a second, and then he looks up over his glasses. “Strip from the waist up,” he orders.

Jensen keeps feeling him up the whole time he undresses, fingers cupping, playing, stroking, and even though he can’t get hard again yet, it feels fantastic, over-stimulated nerves responding and sending fresh shocks of pleasure through him. It makes unknotting the tie and opening the buttons difficult. Finally, he manages to get his shirt and jacket off, folds them and lets them drop to the floor. 

Jensen pulls his hand away. “Take off your pants.”

Jared bites his lip, then obeys. Shoes and socks first, set aside, then the pants. It’s not easy; they stick to his boxers, the skin of his legs, and he kind of has to peel out of them. He folds them anyway, sets them aside. 

“Boxers,” Jensen says. “And then turn them inside out and show me.”

Jesus Christ. The words shoot through him like lightning, and he turns bright red. He’s pretty sure he’s the color of beets from head to toe by them time he wriggles out, skin damp and tacky, pushes them inside out and holds them up for Jensen to inspect. The mess is spectacular, drying slow and milky white against green silk. He wants to fall through the floor.

“Good. Now, turn around and put your hands on the desk.”

Jared puts his ruined boxers down near the rest of the neat pile, turns and puts his palms down. Jensen spreads him apart, one hand on each cheek, and Jared puts more space between his feet.

“You almost stayed in the shower too long,” Jensen says, sounding stern, and Jared blushes all over again as he realizes what Jensen’s doing. Still checking him, inspecting him. “Coming to class with your hair all wet.” Long pause, and he can feel Jensen’s breath, warm between his legs. Wet, slow stripe of Jensen’s tongue licking up the center of him, dipping into the hole before darting back out, and Jared shudders, feels it like a shock, nerves raw, still over-sensitized. Jensen’s voice drops a notch when he speaks again. “Didn’t want to stop fingering yourself, did you?”

“No,” Jared answers. 

“So fucking hot,” Jensen whispers, and then his tongue trails up the crease, back down again, slips inside Jared and fucks him with that sleek, slick muscle. A few short thrusts of his tongue and then he’s pulling out again, writing words on Jared’s skin with his mouth. “Can feel how loose you are from fingering yourself.” His fingers dig into Jared’s ass, pull him wide open, tongue snaking inside for another lick. He can feel Jensen moan into him, vibration inside his body, and fuck, it’s incredible, the way it feels, the heat it sends rushing through Jared, knowing Jensen’s enjoying this, enjoying _him_.

And then Jensen’s on his feet behind him.

“Get on the floor.” His voice is ragged, hoarse. “On your back.”

Jared turns, walks out beside the desk, heart pounding, uncertain. Jensen’s never put him on the floor before, never told him to lie on his back. The tile is cold against his ass, but he lies down, stretches out his arms above his head, spreads his legs a little. He’s so used to being on his belly that it feels strange to lie like this, more exposed somehow. He sneaks a glance up at Jensen, who is standing over him, and what he sees makes him catch his breath. Hunger and heat there, almost ravenous as his eyes trace every line and curve of Jared’s body. And then he walks around behind Jared, so that Jared has to tilt his head back to look at Jensen upside down. 

Jensen kneels down, legs straddling Jared’s head. He strokes the pad of his thumb across Jared’s lower lip, other hand undoing the button on his pants. Jared feels his heart start to race, mouth watering, and God, Jensen’s going let him do this again. 

“Such a good boy, teasing yourself all day,” Jensen murmurs, other hand reaching inside his pants. “Doing everything I said.” He pulls his cock out, already rock hard, tip glistening, smoothes his thumb over Jared’s lips. Jared opens his mouth and licks out, tongue catching the bead of precome. Jensen shivers, thrusts forward and drags the head across Jared’s lips, silky, velvety skin, rush of wetness. “God, you just can’t wait, can you?” he asks. His voice is raw, rough. “You can’t wait to get my cock in your mouth.”

Jared moans, because it’s true, and the amount of turned on Jensen’s sounding right now is driving him fucking crazy. He lifts his neck, tilts his head back and takes a breath. Opens his mouth and sucks the head inside, lips sealing where the heart-shaped swell ends. Jensen’s whole body goes taut with surprise, trembling, a sudden hiss of drawn breath. Then he growls, skid of palms along Jared’s jaw line, fingers pressing into the thin skin under his chin as Jensen grabs hold. He holds Jared’s jaw open, keeps him still, and then he shoves forward, cock sliding over Jared’s tongue. 

It’s different at this angle; head tilted upside down like this. His throat is wide open, and Jensen shoves straight in, all the way until his body meets Jared’s lips. The sensation surprises Jared, throat fluttering, trying to squeeze shut, but that seems to make Jensen moan even louder, push in a little deeper before he pulls out again. His hips swing forward like a slingshot, driving deep again, and Jared relaxes this time, ready for it. Jensen rocks back and forth on his knees, cock slamming to the back of Jared’s throat, head dragging to the tip of his tongue before thrusting back between his lips. Jared moans, keeps his mouth sealed and sucks as hard he can, cheeks hollowing out. 

And then, Jensen leans forward, uncurls his legs and stretches out straight above him. Jensen runs his hands up the back of Jared’s thighs, sending chills rushing through him. His fingers hook behind Jared’s knees and bend them up, spreading him open and holding him there. Jensen’s been between his legs before, but never like this, pulled up and exposed, helpless on his back. Jared doesn’t have a chance to think about _why_ Jensen’s holding him this way before Jensen’s tongue is pushing back inside him, wriggling and twisting. He gasps around Jensen’s cock, muffled moan, and Jensen shifts his weight, keeps moving his hips. Jensen’s body is pressing into his chin, across his stomach a little uncomfortably, but he really can’t care right now, because _fuck_.

It’s all Jared can do to just keep sucking; Jensen filling him at both ends, wringing pleasure out of him and fucking him at the same time. It’s never been like this, Jensen wrapped around and inside him, and he feels giddy with it, stomach jittering. His dick is hard again, begging to be touched like this afternoon never even happened. Jensen curls and stretches his tongue inside Jared, like rapture all through him, and he wonders if anything else feels as good as this. At least until Jensen locks his lips in a seal around the skin and sucks, fucks him with quick jabs, tongue held stiff, and then Jared’s pretty much reduced to making little whining noises around Jensen’s dick. Spiral of heat in the base of his spine, nerves fluttering, quivering, over-stressed and fuck, it feels twice as good as the last time Jensen did this. Jensen takes him like that, tonguing his ass, stroking his balls until he’s trembling, thighs shaking where Jensen’s holding him open.

Jared’s practically in tears, shivering, cock needing, aching, but he can’t speak, can’t beg. Jensen keeps right on going until Jared thinks he’s going to die, pushing him to the very edge, not touching him anywhere else. And then… Jensen just stops, tongue slipping out of Jared.

Nothing for a moment. Then… Barest touch of Jensen’s lips against Jared’s cock, light circle of pressure, tongue pressing underneath the head. Jared sucks in a gasping breath and goes rigid, cock jerking, hands skidding on the tile. He tries to make a sound, warn Jensen, but Jensen’s already pulled away. Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , just the touch of Jensen’s mouth on him there is enough to almost push him over. Warm breath blown across the tip of his dick, cool where the wetness of Jensen’s mouth was, and he moans deep in his throat, part protest, part pleasure. Shivers, cock spasming helplessly.

Nuzzle and brush of Jensen’s lips all over his cock, grazing, sending shivers, snaking heat through his belly. He doesn’t put his mouth around Jared again, but just the idea that he _could_ is enough. Jensen circles his dick with a loose thumb and forefinger just under the head, and Jared’s breath catches in his chest—if he’d just move, just a _little_ \--but he doesn’t. Two fingers press between his spread legs, push inside, spit slicked and fucking amazing and Jared’s groaning all around Jensen, thrusts of Jensen’s hips slower, steadier now. Christ, so full, cock and fingers inside him. 

Then Jensen presses Jared’s dick against his belly, tongues the slit, and Jared’s brain short-circuits. His dick spasms with dry, hard, shivering pulses, Jensen’s fingers jerking him through the rest. The world goes white behind his eyes, and it hurts even more now than it did this afternoon, body with nothing left to give. He rides it anyway, keening into Jensen’s body, those fingers curling, working relentlessly inside him.

From somewhere far away, he hears Jensen murmur, “Milked yourself fucking _dry_ you came so hard.” 

Jensen’s hips snap into him, start to pump harder and Jared swirls his tongue around the head, sucks quick and hard, little licks against hot, thin, skin, lets his teeth barely scrape the underside. Jensen’s fingers sink into Jared’s skin, and he sucks harder. Jensen feels hot, sleek against the roof of his mouth, his tongue. Jared closes his eyes, presses his lips in a tight circle around it, sucks and licks across the slit on the up stroke. Rough skid, slip and slide deep into Jared, hips twisting, shuddering. Jensen pulls out, sits up and back on his legs, hand jerking himself.

Jared wants to see him, but he can’t see anything above him except Jensen’s hand stripping his cock, spray of white pushing from the tip, falling in warm beads across his chin and chest. The last stroke of Jensen’s hand leaves a drop on his lower lip. His tongue flicks out, catches the taste. Jensen hardly ever lets Jared touch him, kiss him, taste him, so he’s willing to steal all he can get.

Jensen’s moved back a little. He’s looking down at Jared, and Jared forgets to breathe for a second. 

Jensen doesn’t say anything, reaches out with his hand, strokes a finger up the line of Jared’s throat, pushing through the slick there. Wet finger tracing his mouth and he parts his lips, lets Jensen paint his tongue with bitter salt. Sucks the skin and laps at the pad of flesh. Jared’s never been one to shy away from blowjobs, never had a problem swallowing, either. But when Jensen pulls free, draws another line through Jared’s chest and feeds cooling come to him, he realizes how very much _this_ is not like _that_. It’s not heat of the moment, it’s deliberate, slow. And he’s not shying away from this, either. Wants every bit that Jensen’s willing to give. Jensen locks eyes with him as Jared swirls his tongue around the nail, the salty skin, sucks him clean.

Jensen’s watching him with the strangest look, like… like he doesn’t know who Jared is, or how he got here. Jensen’s finger slips out, traces the swell of Jared’s lip, and then it’s gone. He’s starting to pull himself together, tucking in and zipping, buttoning. Jared squishes the disappointment rising in his stomach, sits up and reaches around the desk for his clothes. Rises and pulls his pants on. When he turns, Jensen’s smoothing his shirt, touching the perfect knot in his silk tie. 

“So,” Jared asks, “did you think I could do it?”

Jensen looks up, corner of his mouth quirking. “I knew you _could_. I didn’t know if you _would_.”

Jared grins and pulls his shirt on as Jensen walks around the desk, reaches for his jacket. “Jared.” Jared watches as he slips into it, shrugs his shoulders with a precise motion. The material settles perfectly into place and he straightens the lapels. “Did you delete all the messages?”

“Of course I did,” he says. Jensen just looks at him for a second and Jared laughs, reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. “You wanna check?” 

Jensen looks at the phone, then shakes his head. “No. I trust you.”

A sudden thought strikes him. “How did you get my number, anyway?” Jared asks.

“What you get for coming to my house,” Jensen says breezily, picks up his briefcase. “See you Monday,” he says, quick glance over his shoulder as he walks out.

Jared shakes his head and chuckles, pulls on the rest of his clothes.

*

It doesn’t hit him until he’s halfway home, how strange that all was. He can’t even put his finger on what was different, exactly; he just knows something was off. Jensen’s so goddamned hard to read... But sometimes, like today, Jared gets the sense that there’s something else going on underneath that cool exterior.

Shit. Fort Knox is probably easier to get into than Jensen’s headspace.

But he goes home feeling happier than usual, for no good reason he can name. Far too happy, for someone as wrung out as he feels. His good mood lasts all the way through dinner, after which he promptly passes out on the couch, watching reruns on Cartoon Network. 

When he wakes up on Saturday, he’s rock hard and more turned on than ever, like yesterday turned up the volume on his body. He sighs, shifts and rolls over in bed, trying to put the need off. He closes his eyes and images of yesterday flash by; Jensen’s face, his finger in Jared’s mouth, the way he’d looked so… surprised? No, that isn’t it, not exactly. It’s something deeper than simple surprise.

He opens his eyes, frustrated, wonders if he can think about anything else for two seconds. Chad was right; he _is_ a crack head. Worse, he’s being a total girl, trying to decipher Jensen’s looks and touches like there’s some kind of secret code he can crack that’ll give him all the answers if he just keeps at it.

Jared’s never going to be able to make it through the weekend without seeing him.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

When Jensen opens the door, he’s dressed in jeans and a dark green button down rolled up to just below his elbows. Jared swallows hard, taking in the expanse of tanned skin it reveals; his forearms are wide and perfectly defined, scattered with fine blond hair and light freckles. He looks _strong_ , somehow bigger than Jared imagined, seeing him in clothes all the time. It makes his fingers look even thicker, longer, more capable. It takes Jared a couple tries to tear his eyes away, and the next thing he notices is that Jensen’s feet are bare, and that his jeans this time look newer. He lets his eyes travel up the length of Jensen’s body, admiring the way the denim clings, not quite hugging his hips, accentuating the bulge between his thighs. His hair is spiky, eyes even greener than usual paired with the color of his shirt, speculative look behind those glasses.

If anything, Jensen seems even less surprised to see Jared on his doorstep, this time. He doesn’t say anything, just looks Jared up and down once, then turns and walks away, leaves the door open behind him. Jared steps inside and closes it, and he can already see Jensen settling back into his chair in the living room, papers stacked and scattered all around him.

The house smells fragrantly of cinnamon, and Jared spies a steaming tea cup sitting on the little wooden table next to Jensen. He keeps walking right on past. He remembers his instructions; goes directly to the desk and toes out of his shoes, peels off his socks and pants, his boxers. Turns his back to Jensen and puts his hands on the desk, knees wide apart. The stance feels just as awkward as the first time, but his cock is completely without shame; already stiffening in anticipation.

Silence except for papers rustling, the very distant sound of a violin, volume turned so far down Jared can barely make it out. He’s been standing there about fifteen minutes when he hears Jensen get up, sneaks a peek through the side of his bangs. Jensen disappears out of his line of vision, and there’s the sound of water running, dishes clinking, light ceramic dings and the metallic tink of utensils. The chair creaks a little when Jensen sits back down, and it’s another good twenty minutes or so before Jared starts to get restless, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wondering if Jensen would really notice if he moved his hips just a little. 

He doesn’t quite have the nerve to do it, but Jensen seems to notice anyway. “Turn around, Jared."

 

Jensen’s looking up at him from over the rim of his glasses, papers lying in his lap, neat stack of them on the arm of the chair, single sheet in one of his hands. "Why did you come here?"

Jared just stares, heart pounding, disbelieving. Is there any way Jensen couldn't know why he's here? Is that even _possible_? 

"Wanted to see you," he says, voice rougher than he means it to be. It gives away more than he'd wanted. And fuck it, that’s out now, might as well go all the way. "I _like_ you."

Jensen catches his upper lip between his teeth, shakes his head back and forth, slowly, look in his eyes Jared can't quite figure out. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re really smart, and strong, and you’ve got a wicked sense of humor. You like classical music and you like to read. Cinnamon tea and philosophy. Old movies and independent films. And a secret love for horror and action movies, if the ones stashed on the bottom shelf over here are anything to go by. ”

“You’ve been standing at that desk too long,” Jensen mutters. He folds his arms over his chest, looks at Jared speculatively. “Go on.”

“You like things neat and orderly, but you also like to take things apart and put them back together. You like people who think for themselves. You really _think_ about things and you’re always aware of everything going on around you, even though most of the time you don’t seem like it.” Jared bites his lip and plunges on, words tumbling out in a rush. “And you’re calm and put together, but you’re also one of the most passionate, intense people I’ve met. You’re _interesting_. And no, I don’t know that much, because you’re so mysterious about everything and it probably drives most people crazy, but it just makes me wanna know more.”

Jensen’s just looking at him, and fuck, dude, Jared can’t believe he just said all that. He swallows and tries out a nervous smile. “Did I leave out hot?”

Jensen’s expression doesn’t change, and he makes a motion for Jared to turn back around. Jared does, puts his hands down on the desk and rolls his eyes at himself. Fucking _brilliant_. He must have sounded like a total idiot.

There’s silence for a second, then the rustling sounds of paper being shuffled. Jared’s startled when Jensen speaks again. “What do you want to know?”

Jared can’t even believe it. He’s got so many questions. “Why physics? What do you love about it?”

Jensen goes so silent, so still for a second that Jared’s afraid he shouldn’t have asked. And then… Jensen laughs. It’s a natural, open sound, and Jared really thinks he should make it more often.

“You’re serious? _That’s_ what you want to know?”

Jared feels silly for asking, the way Jensen says that. “I just… wondered, you know? I heard… well, I heard you were some kind of brilliant researcher, and I figure you’ve been into it since college, at least. So you must really like it, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Shuffle of paper, shifts of Jensen’s body in the chair. “It’s fascinating. It explains the unexplainable, or explains _why_ the unexplainable can’t be explained. It’s the why and the how of the universe. And there’s always something new or different to discover. It never stops being interesting.” A pause and then, “Why do you want to know?” 

There’s something strange about the way he asks the question. Jared can’t quite put his finger on it. “I’m just… Curious about you. Is it that weird of a question?”

“Most people ask, ‘how long have you been in the field’, or ‘what’s your major area of study’, or ‘where did you go to school’. Not ‘why’.”

Jared thinks about that for a second. “Doesn’t seem as important as ‘why’.”

“What else?” Jensen asks.

“Do you like teaching?”

Another pause. “Why?”

“Because… you seem to enjoy it, and you’re really good at it. But it’s not what you usually do.”

“I enjoy it a lot. I always have. Teaching other people teaches me, too. I used to teach back in my early college days, but I gave it up for research. That’s where the real developments happen. Where I can learn the most.” He takes a breath, moves some papers around. “Anything else?”

“What do you like about classical music?” 

Jensen chuckles, and Jared can picture him shaking his head. Jared’s not exactly sure _why_ Jensen’s finding these questions amusing, but at least he’s pretty sure Jensen’s not laughing at _him_. 

“It doesn’t interrupt me when I’m working, or reading,” he answers. “It helps me focus, think. It’s complex and brilliantly orchestrated.” He pauses, like he’s thinking, then adds, “Beautiful. Powerful. Relaxing.”

They’re both quiet for a minute, Jared surprised into silence. Hearing Jensen use those descriptive words… words he wouldn’t have expected.

“Jared. Why do you care about these things? What are my answers giving you?”

Jared frowns, tongues at the inside of his cheek and thinks about that. What _is_ he getting, exactly? Why does he care? Why does anyone want to know things about a person? He wants to know because it’s Jensen, sure, but _why_?

He can only come up with one thing. “The same thing you said about physics, I guess. It’s the why and the how. Wanting to understand.”

"Jared," Jensen sighs, rises from his chair. "What am I going to _do_ with you?" 

Jared's breath catches, eyes closing as he forces out the words. "Whatever you want."

"Hmm," Jensen breathes, close to him, now. "Right." Jensen strokes up the back of Jared's thighs and in between, two fingers pressing against the opening, like he's testing to see if Jared's ready. Jared controls the shiver that works its way down the back of his neck, through his spine to his hips, sucks his lower lip between his teeth. Jensen covers the spot where the shiver began with his mouth; hot, wet, open-mouthed kisses pressed along the line of his neck. He works his fingers, playing, teasing against Jared, light little circles that make Jared want to rotate his hips and grind back. 

"Want it, don't you?" Jensen whispers, hot breath against Jared's ear. Jared shivers violently in response, body trembling with the force.

"Yes," he gasps, tilts his head back, exposes more of his neck for Jensen, more skin for him to kiss and lick. "God, yes."

"So eager," Jensen murmurs, mouth catching along Jared's jawbone. His fingers still, tips poised on the edge of entering Jared's body. "Tell me what you want, Jared. Ask me for it." Words spelled out with heat like fire against his skin, soft lips, slick tongue.

"You," he chokes out. "All of you. Your fingers, your tongue, your cock." Jensen growls, vibration humming through Jared in time with his shivering. Jensen's fingers press in and then slip away. Jared moans at the loss, but then Jensen's behind him, body hard and sinuous, cock grinding through smooth denim and rocky buttons, shoving into him, _between_ him. Sweet rub, friction and heat, and _God_ , he's right there. So close to where Jared wants him.

His hand slides around Jared's hip, pulls him into the motion, then holds him still, fingers digging into the soft, hollow space behind the bone. His teeth graze the top of Jared's spine, hand settling onto his other hip. "That what you want?"

"Inside me," he breathes as Jensen's teeth close around his earlobe. 

Jensen bites him hard, whispers, almost violently. "You want me to fuck you, Jared?"

They're here, at Jensen's house, and everything seems… different somehow. More free, more dangerous. And he's never been fucked a day in his life; always been the one who did the fucking--but this? Yes. He wants _this_.

Jared leans his head back, rubs into Jensen's cheek, his shoulder. Takes a breath and presses his body back into Jensen's chest. Turns his head and whispers, "God. Fuck yes."

Jensen makes a noise; breathy, gritty sound. His mouth falls across the exposed expanse of skin, biting, licking at Jared's pulse point. He chases the rabbiting of Jared's heart, suckles there. His fingers clutch Jared's hip bones, body molded to Jared's spine. "What…" he begins, bites at the thin skin of Jared's throat, slides his lips along the ridge of muscle. "Have…" Bites into the muscle, drives down hard, then relents, tongue sliding up behind his ear. "You done…" Kisses and licks in the space between. "To earn that?" Teeth closing possessively over his ear, and God, Jensen's going to drive him crazy—fucking certifiable.

"You came into my home, uninvited… and you expect me to reward you like that?" His voice is a bare, whispery breath, ghosting across Jared's ear, working right down through muscle and bone. "You're going to have to show me," he says, pulling in a breath over Jared's skin that sends shivers all the way to his toes. "How much you want it."

Jared can't kiss him. Jensen's mouth is behind his ear, body insinuated against him, and fuck. Don't stop, don't stop.

"I'll show you…" he says, then has to catch his breath. “I'll show you what I did… to myself, when I thought about you."

Jensen goes still for a second, and then his hands leave Jared, one last drag of lips across the back of his neck as they trail away. "Do it."

Solid sound of something hitting the desk, and Jared opens his eyes, takes a shaky breath, and looks. Clear little bottle of lube sitting there, just in case Jared needs it, and he guesses he does.

He takes a second to steel himself, reaches for the bottle and opens it. Tips it over and lets it trickle down, spill over his whole right hand. Feels it drip down the ridges, in between the webs. God, he's only done this once, in the shower, never done it in front of _anyone_ … His stomach is fluttering and flopping inside him. He bites into his lower lip, bears down on the feeling skittering through his belly. He _wants_ this. If he has to earn it, he will.

He braces himself with his left arm against the desk, reaches between his legs with his right, bends over and spreads his thighs a little further. His fingers brush against his own skin artlessly, the clumsiness, the skidding touch, almost arousing. He finds the searing heat at the center, presses in with two fingertips. _God_ it's fucking good. Relief he didn't even know he's been waiting for, and he thrusts in without hesitation, deep as he can sink with his own hand, sudden pressure filling him. He moans, can't help it, it feels too fucking good. He fucks himself slow, in and out like Jensen would, little sounds escaping him, flex and pull, drag and _push_. Sweet sting of skin stretching, feeding into the pleasure he's giving himself, and he thrusts back with his hips. Gasps at the feeling of fucking himself on his fingers, the way he skids and slides against them.

He hears the sharp intake of breath behind him, feels pride rise inside his chest. He gives in to it then; holds his hand still and fucks into it with complete abandon, panting, moaning. His cock slides against the desk, quick, hard friction, no lubrication. He doesn't care about that right now, doesn't care about getting off, just wants to show… show what Jensen makes him think, feel.

"I thought…" he gasps as he hits the sweet spot inside him, squeezes his eyes shut. “I thought about you…" Shove, thrust and grind. "Your fingers… ungh… inside me… _fuck_ …like this."

He circles his hips around his fingers, bears down, bites back a cry. "How you'd… open me." 

He presses a third finger against himself on the down stroke. Hitches in a breath. "And then…" he grunts, tracing the rim of himself, " _this_." He pushes in with the third finger, too, stretch and strain, and _God_ , yes. Pushes it all the way inside, all three fingers laid alongside, stretching him wider than he's ever been, knuckles crooked, hitting places he's never felt before. "This… is when I imagined you…" he pants, fucks back into his hand and shudders, gasping. “When I imagined you fucking me," he groans out, twists his hips against the sensation, needing to feel it harder, deeper, the way Jensen would fuck him.

He realizes suddenly that he isn't moving anymore, that he can't. Hands roughly holding his hips, breath against the back of his neck, Jensen's bare chest pressing into him.

"Enough. Jesus Christ, Jared. Jesus fucking Christ."

One of Jensen's hands slides from his hip, takes hold of his hand and pulls him free. Squeeze of fingers, and then Jensen's presses his slick palm against the desk, keeps it there. He can feel Jensen's hand shake, but he can't think what it means. He's too worked up, too gone, needing more.

"Please," he gasps.

Jensen pulls his hand away, puts it on Jared's shoulder and turns him around. Jensen's fingertips feel unsteady as he presses them into Jared's cheekbones, pull him in close.

"Do you have any idea..?" Jensen says. And no, Jared really doesn't, doesn't have the slightest clue what Jensen's talking about-- _why_ he's still talking. Jared lunges, catches Jensen's lower lip between his teeth and then licks up, in between, tongues colliding. Slide of Jensen's hands into his hair, tangling his fists in handfuls. Pulls him deeper, harder, and God yes, _this_. Jensen sucking on his tongue, licking inside like he's hungry for it, like he's tasting every ridge in the roof of Jared's mouth, hard chest pressed against him, locked hip to hip. He rises up into Jared, tongue leading, hard licks and harder cock grinding into him.

Jensen nips at him, slow swirl of his tongue over Jared's lips, barely pulling back to breathe the words. "Want it so bad. I'll give it to you," he says, running his hand down the curve of Jared's spine. Jared's entire body shakes with the words, the motion of Jensen's fingers, feathering down. 

Jensen yanks him away from the desk, mouth devouring Jared’s as he pulls him down the hall, their bodies still pressed together. Jared’s head is spinning so hard, locked body and mind to Jensen’s mouth, his chest, his hips, that he doesn’t even notice they’re moving until Jensen spins him around.

They’re somewhere... else. Muted light of backlit ceiling edges, vague golden glow that flows over the bed beneath, throwing stark shadows over the white comforter. Jared has the odd thought that he expected satin, silk, sleek sheets to tangle around Jensen's body, shades of black and crimson to caress him in reflective ripples. 

He takes a deep breath, and it dawns on him… he's in Jensen's _bedroom_. Jensen's hands on his hips, Jensen's mouth dragging wet against his shoulder blade. For a split second, he's not really sure this is happening. 

"Get your hot ass on the bed," Jensen growls, hands pushing at him. Jared falls, lands face first in soft down, smooth cotton. Jensen's right behind him, body on top of him, pressing and wriggling Jared up the bed. Bare chest and stomach against his back, and he can _feel_ Jensen's muscles rippling, working underneath the skin, rough hands on his hips, his shoulders, sliding him up the mattress. Jensen sucks at the spot between Jared's neck and shoulder as he lifts away, unbuttons his jeans. Jared feels the movements he makes, shake of hips right out of his pants, bare body sliding against Jared as he kicks them off. His cock is warm, smooth, hard, pressing between Jared, flat belly resting against the dip of Jared's back, mouth fastened to the knob of bone at the top. 

He runs his hands up Jared's arms, spreads them wide and curls his fingers through Jared's, pushes them into the bed. Squeeze and release, fingers gliding back down the soft underside of his arms, nails rasping over skin. Jared shivers, body twisting under Jensen, and Jensen moans, hot breath against the back of his neck, grind of hips down into Jared. Palms press into Jared's shoulders, Jensen's tongue making wicked loops and whorls around the notches of his backbone, circling each one as he dips low, body sliding down slow. Fingers follow in the wake of his tongue, tracing the same pattern, soft and teasing, every nerve inside Jared awake and trembling, fire winding through his belly, slivers of ice shivering up and down his spine. 

Intricate dance of Jensen's tongue while he sucks at the hollow between Jared's hips, the dip just below his tailbone, until his fingertips streak out across the rising swell of Jared's ass, align on his hipbones. Jared's focused on every tiny touch, every sensation, knot of fear inside him slowly loosening, muscles unwinding, body going limp, pliant against the bed.

"Open up for me," Jensen whispers, and Jared spreads his legs wider, soft cotton whispering with the movement. Jensen licks out, tongue sinking inside him easily. Light curls of the tip, like he's tasting, testing, and then he thrusts all the way, base flattening out, widening. 

Jared jumps like he's been struck by lightning, hips lurching against the bed. "God. Feels so good," he gasps, digs his fingers into the covers, clutching. Jensen hums, vibrations streaking out in trembling waves all through Jared, leave him shuddering, begging.

"Please, Jensen. Please fuck me. Jesus Christ, want it, want you, now."

Jensen's hands tighten against him, harsh nip of his teeth against Jared's inner thigh as he pulls away. There's a moment, just a moment where Jensen's hands leave him entirely, meaningless sounds as he does something Jared can't see, and Jared begs more, ass rising off the bed. Jensen's hands slap into him, push him back down, palms skating with slick. 

"Beg so pretty." Words uttered out, unsteady. "Gonna give it to you." Fingers swirling over Jared's hole, slicking him, dipping just inside, the other hand holding Jared's shoulder. 

"Wanna see you," Jared moans. "Wanna look at you."

"Shhh," Jensen whispers, presses a kiss to the back of his neck. Electricity arcs down Jared's spine at the touch. Jensen's hand runs down his ribs, smoothing over muscles, leaving goose bumps in its wake. Jensen tongues at a patch of raised skin on Jared's shoulder, fingers stroking the small of Jared's back. Wriggle of his hips, and Jared can feel him, slick, hot cock head separating him, thin, rubbery skin between. Pressed right against him, where he's wet and open, and oh _God_ , this is _it_.

He moans, presses his face deeper into the pillow, spreads his legs wider.

"So good," Jensen assures him, fingers stroking through Jared's hair, circling his tailbone. Slow rock of his hips into Jared, head nudging, barely there. Tiny, tiny pushes, and Jared loses himself in the teasing rhythm of them, groaning, trying to grind back. Jensen holds him, weight behind splayed fingers, massaging at the base of his spine. Holds him until he goes still, body relaxing against the bed, no resistance.

"Good boy. So hot, all spread open and waiting for me,"

Jensen pushes in almost gently, cock head parting him, slow stretch, just around the tip. It doesn't feel like anything else; hot, pulsing, alive, soft and hard all at once.

Jensen gasps, fingers taut against Jared's body. Keeps pushing, steady pressure opening Jared, and _God_ it's better than anything else Jensen's ever done to him. He feels himself spreading around Jensen's cock, body willing, past the thick round of his cock head. Sweet burn, Jensen filling him, and he groans, wants more, tries to cant his hips and rock into it. He can't move though, so he tightens the muscles inside his body instead, flexes them around the length of Jensen's cock.

"Jesus Christ, Jared," Jensen whispers, voice hot, thick. His fingers clutch reflexively in Jared's hair, tighten into a fist, and then he _shifts_ , hips propelling forward.

Sudden, sharp blinding pain, white hot, and every muscle in Jared's body clenches in protest. His eyes fly wide, hands carving half moons into his palms.

And Jensen's hands are stroking again, soothing against skin and scalp, words whispering out, telling him how good he's doing. "Always like that," he says, voice tight, ragged, body completely still. "Always, until you get used to it." He leans down, ghost of lips and tongue over Jared's neck. "Don't worry," he whispers, and Jared can feel Jensen's whole body shake, straining like he's trying hard not to move. He tongues the hollow behind Jared's ear. "You're _gonna_ get used to it."

Jared moans, body rushing hot with the promise of Jensen's words, cock throbbing into the covers. The pain is dissipating like smoke, drifting away, he can _feel_ himself stretched around Jensen, burn blending into pleasure. He's so wide, _hot_ inside Jared, burning him up from the inside out, locked together, skin and sweat and need.

"Move," Jared gasps. "God, please."

Jensen lays down, full weight pressing into Jared, hands catching at the top of his hips. He feels Jensen arch, undulate, slide out, Jared's inner muscles tightening against the pull, like his body wants to hold on. Teeth sinking into the meat of his shoulder, biting hard, fingers locked in the groove of Jared's hips as he pushes back in. Jared hisses in a breath, pulled wide, Jensen filling him in one smooth stroke until their bodies touch. It's vaguely uncomfortable, but Jesus fuck, it's so _right_ , even the sparks of pain flying through his belly, laced with the pleasure shooting all the way to his toes. 

"Fuck, yes," he moans, arches best he can under Jensen's weight, his grip. 

"God, love it, don't you?" Jensen breathes, teeth catching the curve of his ear. Fingers twitching against Jared's skin, the muscles beneath, sweat and tension, and then Jensen moves again, sinuous rock of his body, drag out and sleek shove, bodies meeting with a jolt as Jensen drives home. Shaking, quivering, dance of jagged nerves, and Jensen angles his hips, fucks into Jared harder, cock head sliding perfectly against the spot inside him.

And that's it. Jared groans, feels something inside him break and give way, body opening, heart pounding, blood racing, sensations spilling through and filling him. 

"Yes," he grates, voice cracked and shattered. "Jesus, fuck, yes."

Quick, sharp, pointed thrusts of Jensen's hips, cock dragging over the sweet spot again and again, mouth breathing filth into Jared's ear, heartbeat thudding into Jared's back. He winds his fingers into Jared's hair, running smooth through the strands and then gathering, slow pull, tug until Jared's face lifts off the bed, unnatural arch of his neck, Jensen's other hand splayed on his hip, fingertips seizing, moving him with the motions of Jensen's body. 

He goes with it, falling into the rhythm, loses himself in it. Speeding up, faster and faster, like horses racing for the finish line. Hips lifting, rocking Jared into the bed, glide of cotton against his cock, dragging, pulling, and he can feel the pressure build from balls to belly, sweet tightness inside him. 

Jensen yanks his head back, hisses into his ear, "Gonna come, aren't you? Come with my cock inside you."

Jared gasps for breath, neck pulled too taut to do more than wheeze. Jensen's words roll over him like liquid fire, igniting under his skin, exploding in a thousand sparks that shoot straight to his dick. Careless shove of hips, Jensen driving into him, again and again, and God, _Jensen is inside him_. _Fucking_ him, and it's glorious, magnificent, everything all at once and still not enough. He shoves up with his hips, feels Jensen gasp and slide, Jensen's fingers slipping. He's never wanted anything like he wants this, and he thrusts again, pushes against the pressure of Jensen's hand on his hip, shoves his head into Jensen's hand, twists it and pulls, drawing out the pain of strands pulled tight, giving, taking, all at once. 

"Fuck," Jensen gasps. The hand on Jared's hip slides around, under his belly, fingers sticky with lube, sending shudders all through him. Hand, closing around his cock, and fuck, fuck, fuck, no, not yet—

He shoves one last time, taking Jensen all the way, quick and hard, before Jensen's ready for it, and he feels Jensen give a full-body shudder, hand clenching around Jared's cock, and oh _God_ , too much, Jensen inside him and out, wrapped all around him. It's an explosion like a supernova, every nerve contracting then releasing, ecstasy spiraling up from the pit of his stomach, the base of his spine. Body taut, held on the verge, and then Jensen sinks deep inside him, rough skid and slide over that spot and holding there.

"Fuck. Fuck." He has no other words, barely aware of the words leaving him at all, pleasure seizing him, snatching him up.

He pulses helplessly into the sheets, hot and wet, body quivering, stomach convulsing, Jensen's fingers tight and perfect, jerking him, circling the crown of his cock, jagged thrusts and stream of pretty words. Jared feels his body clench, rocks his hips hard and keeps coming, belly soaked and sticky; it's perfect, fucking perfect and sweet and unfuckingbelievable. 

Jensen surges inside him, goes stiff, hand yanking Jared's head back savagely, body trembling and tight, hips stuttering as he comes. Pinch of teeth into the muscle of Jared's shoulder, words spit out around the skin.

"Fucking Christ."

Jensen gives a savage twist of his hips, rotating inside Jared, and oh, _fuck_ , nothing's ever felt like that, thighs trembling, cock twitching uselessly, fresh waves of pleasure spinning out through him. Jensen’s hand is slippery on Jared's sweaty skin, other knotted in his hair, tugging against Jared's body, working him, teeth pulling against muscle, graceless as he rides it out. 

Jensen finally goes still, pressed against Jared's body, tongue tracing the mark his teeth left, breathing heavy into his skin. Jared pants against the bed, melting into it like warm butter, spent and utterly satisfied. 

Jensen angles his cheek against Jared's shoulder, skin sliding and sticking, hair tickling Jared's back and sending shivers skittering through him. "You okay?" His fingers are tracing idle patterns against Jared's hip.

"God, yes," he breathes. Jensen's body is against him like second skin, rising and falling with Jared's breathing, and Jared wants to stay here, just like this. Maybe forever. "I'm fine. Better than fine. Fucking great," he says, can't hold back a low laugh. It's like he lost his virginity all over again—which, well, he really kind of did. 

Jensen chuckles against him, deep vibration through Jared's bones, reverberating in his chest. 

"Love it when you laugh," Jared says.

Jensen's fingers falter, and Jared can feel the tension ripple through Jensen's chest muscles, his belly. A moment of hesitation, a breath drawn and held, and then Jensen pulls from him, starts to sit up.

Instantly, Jared misses the sensation of his skin, his weight pressing in. "Don't," he whispers.

Again, the barest hesitation, fingers lingering against Jared's hip, the back of his head. "Have to," Jensen says. He feels fingers slide down between him, Jensen holding at the base of his own cock. Keeping the condom from slipping, Jared thinks. Slow pull, and he slides free, and Jared's not ready for it, the emptiness left behind. 

His hand is still on Jared's hip, fingers painting spirals into skin, like he's debating something, and Jared holds his breath, keeps his silence.

"I'm going to clean up," Jensen finally says. "Bring you something to clean up with, too. Won't be long." 

Jared lays there, face down and still mostly boneless, a little sore, and a lot satisfied. He doesn’t realize he’s drifting until he feels Jensen’s hands on the insides of his thighs, gentle pressure pushing his legs apart. Jensen slides them up the curve of his ass, spreads him wide.

“Mmm, so hot,” Jensen murmurs, thumbs sliding down, in, massaging around the opening. “Your tight little hole, all fucked open.” Jensen runs his tongue in a quick lap around the rim. “Gonna see how open you are.”

Holy fuck. Jared jolts against the bed, fresh heat rushing all through him, moans, fingers gripping hard against the comforter. He’s still shivering when Jensen’s tongue shoves inside him, fills him with a quick thrust, chin rubbing against his body. Jared’s hips buck against the bed, pushing back into Jensen, but Jensen tightens his fingers, holds Jared still. One lick, in and out, and Jared’s already getting hard, moaning and wanting more. Everything feels twenty times as good against his raw skin, stressed nerves.

“Not even that sore, are you?” Jensen’s voice is low and lazy. “Went easy on you since it was your first time. I should have known,” he purrs, “the way you fucked yourself on your fingers, begged me to fuck you, that you could take it like a pro.” Flash of tongue down the crease, point jabbing quick inside and Jared gasps, twists against the bed. Fuck. Jensen talking to him like this, licking and teasing him. It’s almost too fucking much, body straining, nerves on fire, mind ready to explode.

“Ready for more, too, aren’t you?” Jensen’s voice is thick as honey, a knowing note that makes Jared’s stomach turn inside out. Jensen’s licking slow up the outside, point barely dipping in before passing over, making noises into Jared’s body, and Jesus Christ, it’s fucking fantastic, wet and soft and curling over sensitive skin. 

Jensen’s thumbs dig in and spread him wide, and he can _feel_ his body open to the air—not much, just a little—but he hisses in a breath of surprise. It’s such a strange sensation, embarrassing and incredibly hot all at once, knowing Jensen’s looking at him all held open like that.

“So fucking hot, ass all spread open from taking my cock,” Jensen growls, flexes his tongue and pushes, thumbs moving the rim around on the outside, pushing the shape around, stretching and squeezing, his tongue in between and _God_. Jensen’s licking circles inside him, like he wants to feel _everything_. Jared’s hips are shivering with the need to move, to arch his back and take more, cock aching hard, Jensen holding him motionless against the bed.

“Suh-so, good,” he stutters out, whole body trembling like he’s cold. But he’s not; he’s burning up, Jensen’s tongue everywhere inside. 

Jensen pulls out, nips his teeth against the inner cheek and Jared jumps, sighing out a moan. 

“Took my cock,” Jensen grates. “Took it so good, tight hole all fucked out, and you’re not even _sore_. Just want _more_ , don’t you? Greedy little slut,” Jensen hisses. Jensen’s palm rises off his ass and comes back down hard, smacking into him, and Jared’s whole body goes stiff, cock straining, twitching against the bed, amazed and overwhelmed by the feeling rushing through him, the way the sting works down under his skin and goes straight to his dick.

“Mmm, like that, too, don’t you? Should have known you’d like that.” Jensen’s voice has gone utterly dangerous, sending thrills through Jared, skin tingling. Jensen’s tongue thrusts back inside as he smacks Jared with the other palm. Jared gasps, writhes his upper body against the sheets. Jesus, it’s like electricity through every nerve, sting and crackle of brief pain, bliss of Jensen’s tongue fucking him mercilessly. Jensen lifts his other hand again, brings it down, and Jared nearly bites through his lower lip, head pulling up and back off the bed. Bright sparking pain like needles, burn of heat, tongue sliding in and out and he barely has time to breathe before Jensen does it again. His whole body jolts, teeth clicking together, and God his cock _hurts_ he’s so fucking turned on right now.

Jensen works him like that, again and again, steady fucking and spanking until Jared’s ass is hot, skin on fire, dull throbbing pain connected directly to his needy cock, and he’s sweating, squirming in the sheets, making senseless, helpless noises. Jensen’s fingers dig hard into the tender skin, and Jared whimpers when Jensen’s tongue pulls from his body.

“So fucking pretty,” Jensen says. His voice is shaky, guttering. “Spanking you with my tongue shoved in your ass. Hot little body clenching all around me, squeezing my tongue every time I smack you. The way you shudder and moan like you can’t get enough.”

Jared whimpers again, shivers at the sound of Jensen’s voice, tries to rub his cock in the sticky mess of the comforter. 

“Can’t,” he groans, agrees. “Need more. Please… want you to fuck me again.”

“Fucking slut. Begging for it.” Jensen squeezes Jared’s ass, and then lets go, tongue circling, pressing back inside. Jared groans, drags his dick through the messy cotton, pushes against Jensen’s face. Jensen moans back, and then one of his hands comes down on Jared’s ass again, striking with fresh pain, slamming Jared hard against the bed.

Jared’s still writhing and hissing in a breath, world narrowed to Jensen’s hands and tongue on him, the burn of his skin, his cock throbbing, when Jensen lets go of him entirely, body sliding up his like a snake. Lean muscle, sweaty, naked skin, and then Jensen grabs him by the hips and _shoves_. Jensen’s cock opens him, one quick, smooth thrust, all the way to the bottom, mouth gasping into Jared’s shoulder, and the world explodes, flare of brief pain he barely notices, because holy _fuck_.

“Fuck _yes_ ,” Jared groans.

“Told you you’d get used to it,” Jensen whispers back.

Jensen doesn’t waste a second; he pulls back and slams deep, fingers digging grooves in Jared’s hips. Jensen is _pounding_ into him, rough, hard, Jared’s whole body vibrating against the bed, and Jesus Christ, yes, _this_. Jensen licking up his back, along the line of his shoulder blade, sucking and biting his way up to Jared’s ear. Fucking him like this, panting out in time with his thrusts, words like bullets. “Wasn’t gonna wear you out your first time around, but you fucking asked for it.” Jensen’s mouth closes around his ear, slip of tongue into Jared’s ear, sinuous as a serpent when he whispers, “You can take it, though. _Wanna_ walk around sore, tomorrow, don’t you?”

“Wanna feel you all the time,” Jared gasps, tries to thrust back with his hips, but Jensen meets him first, slamming him back to the bed. 

“Oh, you’re gonna feel it,” Jensen promises, fingers winding up into Jared’s hair, pulling his head back. Cock drilling into him, and fuck, so fucking good. Arched against the bed, poised like some kind of sculpture, neck pulled taut, body straining, Jensen rocking into him, so deep and fucking _hard_.

“Fuck yeah,” Jared moans. “Do it.” He goes lax in Jensen’s hands, muscles not even trying to control anything. Gives up and gives in. Lets Jensen take and _give_.

“So fucking hot, Jared,” Jensen moans into his ear, fucks him like he’s trying to shove him through the bed. Jensen’s hand slides around his hip, skidding against the sweat on both their bodies, finds Jared’s dick, aching hard, circles it and flicks under the head.

“Gonna… Gonna,” Jared gasps through the strain of his throat. Shoves his head back into Jensen’s hand.

Jensen bites his earlobe, licks up the outside, jerks his dick hard. “Yeah. Come for me. Wanna feel you, the way you squeeze my cock when you come.”

Jared pushes his hips down into Jensen’s hand, circle of his fingers flying up and down Jared, cock driving in and out, and God, he’s going to come so _hard_.

Jared bites the comforter, sinks his teeth and holds on, orgasm ripping through him violently, spurting over Jensen’s hand, the motion of Jensen’s hips shoving him into the grip on his cock. So fucking good, and God, nothing’s ever been this good, not even the first time they did this. The world falls away with the pulsing of his cock against Jensen’s fingers, goes sideways and inside out when Jensen keeps fucking him, gasps out his name and bites the base of his neck like it belongs to him, body stuttering.

“Fuck. Feel so good.” Jensen shoves inside him, holds deep, fingers twitching against Jared. He can feel Jensen coming, the shivers of his cock inside Jared’s body, and it makes him want to come all over again.

Bodies grinding, sweating, rubbing, locked together, and Jared gasps, shoves, gives until he can’t anymore. Jensen lets go of his hair, strokes through and tells him how good he is. Falls full body against him, hands stroking up and down Jared’s ribs before they settle against his thighs. Jensen, warm and breathing, sinking into him, and he loses himself in the pattern of their breath, rising and falling together.

*

When Jared wakes, it’s to the sound of George Michael pouring out of the speakers in the room.

“Decided to join the living?” Jensen asks, pushes a button on the stereo. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and satiny black pajama pants, and Christ, Jared is so gone, eyes glued to the muscles in Jensen's arms as he moves.

And then it hits him. _George Michael?_

He can’t help but ask, and Jensen smiles, turns up the volume. “You didn’t think classical music was all I listened to, did you?”

“You are a sick, sick man,” Jared mutters, falls back into the embrace of the bed.

Jensen chuckles, cranks the volume a little higher, and Jared winces, words driving deep into his wanna-be comatose brain.

_“The rich declare themselves poor  
And most of us are not sure  
If we have too much  
But we’ll take our chances  
Because God stopped keeping score”_

And okay, maybe George Michael’s a _little_ bit deep. But _still_.

“Tell me _Listen Without Prejudice_ is not an amazing album,” Jensen says.

“Are you serious?” Jared grunts, raising his head. “George Michael is so _gay_.”

Jensen stops, CD case halfway closed, and just _looks_ at Jared.

“Okay,” he amends. “Gay, _yes_. But also _lame_.”

Jensen curls his upper lip and closes the CD case with a snap. “Okay. I was gonna just kick you out. But, I have _got_ to show you the way. It’s my duty.” He makes an “up” motion with one hand, points with the other. “Towel’s on the floor. Get up, clean up, and put your clothes on.” He pauses a second… looks back at Jared again, and adds, “Just the pants.”

It takes Jared a few minutes to do all that—and thank God he’s been so conscious about where he leaves his clothes lately. He shuffles back into the bedroom, in jeans and nothing else, feeling strange about being here. Jensen’s sprawled back on the bare sheets; comforter stripped away, stereo remote in his hand. He’s so amazingly hot, all stretched out and lazy looking, that Jared just has to stop for a second in awe.

“You took too long,” Jensen says. “Keep that up, and next time I’ll beat your ass and _not_ let you come.” It comes out so smooth that Jared’s startled. And for some strange reason, it makes him feel about ninety-percent more comfortable. 

Still. He doesn’t know where to go, what to do. So he walks to the edge of the bed, sits down. 

“So,” Jensen says, cues the CD with the remote. “We start with _Praying for Time_ …”

About thirty-nine minutes later, when George (as he’s come to think of him) sings _Waiting, Reprise_ , Jared understands. He’s lying down, on the other side of the bed, hands behind his head, eyes closed and listening, like Jensen told him to.

_But you once said  
There's a way back for every man  
So here I am  
Don't people change? Here I am  
Is it too late to try again?_

He sits up as the music winds down, turns toward Jensen. “Who was she?” he asks. “The girl who left him?”

Jensen stops... then hits the button on the remote. “Most likely a ‘he’,” he says, rubs a hand across his jaw, but he’s looking at Jared with something strange in his eyes.

“Yeah,” Jared says. “Okay, ‘he’. But Christ, who was he, and did he ever come back? ‘Cause damn.”

Jensen nods, that same look still in his eyes. “I always wondered the same thing.”

Jared is aghast. “You mean… you made me listen to this whole thing, and you don’t even know?”

Jensen tilts his head, glasses catching the recessed light. “That’s not the important part. The important part is that it makes you wonder.”

Jared stops dead at that. The important part is that you wonder? How does that make sense? No… wait. It’s not the wondering that’s driving him crazy. It’s the… Oh. “It’s the fact that it makes you _care_ ,” he says. Nods. Feels all wise and sage and stuff when Jensen nods back. But then he can’t take it anymore, throws up his hands. “I still want to _know_.”

Jensen laughs, stretches wide, and God, even now, Jared can’t stop noticing the way his muscles flex. So natural, so composed. 

Jensen gets up from the bed, sets the remote on the night table. “Now that you’ve been educated, I guess we should eat something.” 

Jared nods mock-solemnly. “And _then_ you can kick me out.”

Jensen smirks. “Yeah.”

*

The kitchen looks like a movie set, it’s so neat; polished tile and smooth white counter tops, stainless steel appliances, copper pots and pans hanging from the rack above the center island. Everything gleams, and Jared wonders if Jensen has a maid, because if not, Chad might’ve had a point about that whole OCD thing.

Jensen makes him slice the onions, and then smacks him on the hand the second he starts cutting. Jensen moves around behind him, puts his hand over Jared and leans against him, guides him through the motions, precise, smooth cuts through the round. Jared’s pretty sure he doesn’t blink or breathe the whole time, Jensen moving so naturally with him. 

Jared slices tomatoes next, like Jensen showed him to slice onions--only thicker--satisfied and disappointed when Jensen just nods. He puts sandwiches together, and while he does, he finds out Jensen also loves Macy Gray, The Talking Heads, Snow Patrol, somebody named Morrissey, and a lot of other groups that kinda blow Jared’s mind.

They eat casually, right there on the counters. When they’re finished, Jensen tells him to clean up and disappears to the living room. When he’s done with that, he finds Jensen sitting in his chair, reading a magazine, thumb and forefinger held under his chin. He looks engrossed, and Jared doesn’t know what to do. Jensen _knows_ he’s standing here, but he’s not—oh. 

He quells his disappointment quickly. It’s not like he expected to stay the weekend here, right?

“Permission to get dressed before you kick me out, sir?” Jared says and salutes.

Jensen looks like he’s actually _thinking_ about sending Jared home with no shirt and shoes. Finally he smiles a little, makes a motion toward the stack of clothes next to the chair. “Granted.” 

Jared’s pulling on his socks and shoes, trying to get a glimpse of whatever Jensen’s reading when Jensen looks up again. 

“Jared. Did you ever figure out the answer to your question about control?”

“I thought I did,” Jared says, kneeling down to tie his shoe. “But then all my answer did was create another question.”

“Really? Tell me.”

Jared gathers his thoughts while he’s tying the other shoe, then looks up at Jensen. “Okay. Not doing something you want is obviously a kind of control. But how can doing what you want be a type of control? And I thought, maybe the difference is in the thinking about it. You know, making an informed decision instead of just… reacting.”

Jensen’s nodding, looking at him intently. "When you have control of yourself, you learn how to live with want. But, you also have the ability to decide, on your own terms, to indulge in a want. The difference is in understanding that you have a choice, being aware of what you're doing, rather than simply giving in to an urge blindly."

"Yeah," Jared nods, impressed by Jensen's ability to put it so clearly. "But there’s where it starts falling apart. How can you tell? Because… sometimes it starts as a blind urge, then you think about it, and decide to do it anyway. How do you know you're not just tricking yourself into thinking it’s an informed decision?" Because he's thought about this, he did a _lot_ of thinking about this. 

Jensen actually looks a little impressed, himself. "When you learn that," Jensen says, "then I'll have taught you well."

"Okay, Mr. Miyagi."

"Misquoting Kung-fu, actually," Jensen smiles.

He's so cute when he does it, almost boyish. It makes him look younger, freer, and Jared wants more than anything to lean in and kiss the curve of it. "Is _that_ where you learned all this?" Jared laughs.

Jared watches Jensen's smile do a slow dissolve. He doesn't go somber, exactly, just gets this distant look, like he's remembering something from a long time ago. "No." 

Jared wants to ask, but something in Jensen's face stops him, and then the moment's gone.

"I'll see you Monday," Jensen says, and then there's nothing for Jared to do but nod, head for the door.

"And, Jared…" Jensen's voice calls after him. "I do mean _Monday_." He's serious; Jared doesn't doubt it for a second—but there's a teasing lilt to the words that leaves Jared smiling on his way out the door.

*

On Monday, Jensen puts nipple clamps on him and teases him until he thinks he’s going to die before Jensen finally fucks him bent over the desk. It’s hot as hell, but it isn’t like it was at Jensen’s. Jared can’t quite put his finger on what’s different, but he definitely feels more distance between them. Jared can’t get his head around it all. Jensen, he tells Chad, runs hot and cold, and you never know which one you’re going to get. Or why. He knows he can’t openly compete for Jensen’s attention — he isn’t sure he can handle another lesson in self-control.

On Wednesday, Jared comes up with a perfect idea. He lingers after gym class, takes his time dressing until the locker room is almost empty. He keys in a phone number that’s definitely not stored in his contacts and enters a text message. He doesn’t hit send; grabs his book bag from the locker and practically runs to seventh period. 

He’s barely sitting down when the bell rings. Jensen’s up on his feet, talking and writing on the blackboard almost immediately, and it’s a good ten minutes before things settle in and people are working on assignments. Jared hits the send button on the text message, watches.

He sees Jensen pull his phone out of his pocket, casual as he looks at the display. He runs his thumb down the side of the phone, then presses a button, tucks the phone away and pushes his glasses up his nose. He doesn’t look in Jared’s direction as he goes back to writing, but Jared knows well enough to know by now that Jensen’s _got_ to be having some kind of reaction underneath that cool exterior. Has to be thinking about what Jared just told him.

The clamps hurt a little bit, pinching the thin, sensitive skin of his nipples, but the dull throb feels good, too, nerves overexcited, flushed full of blood. His cock is hard, and every time he moves his shirt brushes over the clamps, drags against them and sends delicious thrills of pleasure and pain that make his dick ache. Jared breathes deep, breathes hard and tries to focus. Deletes the message from his phone, then the phone number, and gets to work on his assignment.

After class, Jensen locks the door almost immediately, calls Jared to the front of the room. He walks around the desk until he's standing right in front of Jared. Jensen runs a finger down the row of buttons on his shirt, leans in closer. "Jared. Tell me something."

Jared watches that finger slide down to the button on his pants, breath catching. "Yeah?"

Jensen looks up at him, hand moving up under Jared's tie. He wraps his fingers around it, tugs on the end, and Jared's mouth is a scant inch from his when Jensen asks, "Are you _trying_ to kill me?"

Jensen yanks him down, mouth surging, searing hot against Jared's as it opens, sucks Jared's tongue inside. He doesn't even remember the question anymore, just knows there was one, and he really hopes Jensen doesn't want an answer, because he's too busy kissing back, moaning into Jensen's mouth.

"Fucking tease," Jensen mutters. Runs his other hand up Jared's chest, fingers catching around the clamp, twisting it just slightly. Jared gasps, body shuddering, and _fuck_ , fiery sparks exploding from his nipple, line straight to his dick. "Show you what happens to a tease," Jensen whispers, voice throaty, full of dark promise.

Jensen yanks him again, spins him around against the desk. Jared’s thighs press against it, and he starts to bend down, but Jensen pulls again, makes him stand up straight. His other hand is thumbing at the button on Jared’s pants, yanking the zipper open. Rough hands on his hips, shoving his pants down, and Jared steps out of them. Jensen yanks them away, smacks the inside of Jared’s thigh. 

“Spread your legs.”

Jared does, and he can hear Jensen unbuckling his belt, opening the zipper, other sounds he can’t quite figure out. Jensen snaps at him again. “Wider.”

Jared pushes his feet apart, and it’s a little awkward. Puts a hand on the desk to steady himself, heart pounding in his chest, cock hard and dragging against the top of the desk.

Then Jensen's all over him; arm wrapping around his chest, holding him, pulling him in, hips lining up behind, and holy fucking _shit_. Slick cock head separating him, nudging in and out, quick little jabs, shoving a little deeper every stroke until Jensen’s all the way inside him and he’s stretched wide from the sweet burn, gasping.

“Teases,” Jensen grunts, sliding back, slamming in. “Get their hot little asses fucked out.”

Jared shudders from head to toe with the words, cock and nipples aching. And then he gasps, seizes, Jensen’s fingers tweaking the clamps, fire shooting all through him.

Jensen grabs Jared by one hip, rough fingers biting into skin, wraps his other hand in Jared’s hair, yanks, and _holds_ him in place. He gasps for air, tries to breathe through his strained neck, against the feeling of Jensen pounding him. His knees quiver, thighs trembling with strain, whole body sweating, Jensen drilling in and out of him until his body is jolting with the rhythm.

There’s a sudden pause and Jared gasps as Jensen yanks out of him. He can hear a snap of sound like the condom being torn off, and then something hot and slick spatters across his lower back, all over his ass. Jared groans, begs Jensen to touch him, make him come. Jensen runs a hand through the mess and reaches around Jared’s body, fists Jared’s cock with his wet hand. Jared’s so worked up that he comes almost instantly, Jensen pushing Jared’s dick up against his belly so he spurts all over his own chest, his shirt, hot and thick.

He’s still panting and shuddering when Jensen’s hands start moving all over him, rubbing come into his ass, his chest, until it’s dry. By the time he's done, Jared's shaking, hard all over again.

"Look at you," Jensen says, bites against Jared's ear as he runs a fingertip along the underside of Jared's dick. "Hard again because I came all over you. Want more, don't you?"

"Always," Jared grates.

“Good. ‘Cause I wasn’t done with you,” Jensen whispers. Jared can feel Jensen's hands moving behind him, and then he pushes at the inside of Jared’s thigh again. “Bend your knees.” Jared does and Jensen moves up behind him, shoves his slick cock all the way home with one slow thrust. Jared shudders, gasping, clawing at the desk, and fuck, fuck fuck, so fucking hot, sting and stretch and oh, _God_ , that spot, so good. Jensen’s working him slower this time, dragging his cock head over it, again and again. Jensen presses in even closer, chin digging into Jared’s shoulder.

“Wanna watch you get yourself off while I fuck you.”

God. The fucking things he says. Jared turns red and flushes hot all at once, and it’s insane, what Jensen does to him. Makes him crazy, makes him do things he’d never do with anybody else. He’s never jerked off in front of anyone before, and he goes red to the tips of his ears when he wraps his own hand around his sticky cock. He has no idea why this should be any different than fucking his own fingers in front of Jensen, but it is. More intimate, Jensen rocking in and out of him, chin pressed tight, watching over Jared’s shoulder.

Jared firms his grip, strokes down, hisses at the feeling of it, and Jensen makes a low _mmm_ sound in his ear. He strokes harder, picking up rhythm, rubbing up and down the shaft, moans and pushes his head back into Jensen.

“Come on,” Jensen whispers. “Wanna see how you jerk off when you’re thinking about me.”

Jared whimpers, Jensen skidding over that spot inside him as Jared thumbs under the head of his own cock. Tightens his grip even more, twists his wrist and strokes harder, palm dragging sweet on the underside. Jensen’s hands leave his hips, slide up his ribs, and he’s so busy with his dick, lost in the way Jensen’s fucking him, pleasure spiraling up from his belly, the base of his spine, that when Jensen’s fingers close over his nipples and _tug_ , he’s completely caught off guard. Jared’s whole body jumps, jolts, it fucking _hurts_ and it feels so good and it really shouldn’t, but oh _fuck_ Jensen’s grinding into him, cock rotating inside. He grabs harder against his dick, yanks up, flicks across the slit with his thumb. 

“Yeah,” Jensen whispers, pumping in and out. “Yeah, that’s so good.” Fingers pulling harder, tugging on the clamps one at a time, again and again. Jared’s body is sputtering, shaking, nipples so sensitive, swollen and pinched, and Jensen’s _pulling on them_ , twisting them just a little, sending sparks through his body, short-circuiting his brain. Tiny explosions of sensation, Jensen fucking in and out of him, his own hand on his cock, and it’s too much. 

He moans, turns his face to plead with Jensen. 

“Not yet,” Jensen says, slides in and out with a twist of his hips. “Do it harder, faster.”

Jared groans, runs his hand up and down, squeezes under the crown, and then he goes for broke, stripping his cock so hard that the friction burns a little, brings a gasp of surprise to his lips.

“Yeah,” Jensen whispers. “That’s it.” It's insanely hot, Jensen fucking him, tugging him, whispering dirty things in his ear until he finally tells him to come. Jared spurts all over his fingers, as hard as the first time. Jensen’s right behind him, telling Jared how hard his body grips Jensen’s cock when he comes, how fucking good it feels.

They’re both left sweating, trying to catch their breath, Jensen’s hands on his waist, thumbs tracing circles over the bone.

“So good,” Jensen says, nips at the side of Jared’s neck. He touches the clamps again--just barely--but Jared feels it like a bolt of lightning. “Doing things without being told.” Jensen turns Jared’s head and tilts his face, kisses him long, deep and hard, fingers playing along the crease of Jared’s thighs. It feels good, feels more… real somehow than the rest of the week has. Jared kisses back eagerly, pushing back into the solidness of Jensen’s chest.

When Jared sits down at lunch on Thursday, Meg and Sandy are talking a mile a minute about some guy named Pete. Jared can’t make heads or tails of the conversation—something about dancing, a limo, and Pete’s sculpted calves—and Jared tilts his head sideways at Chad.

“What’s going on?”

Chad shrugs, picks at his food. “Pete Holland asked Meg to prom.”

Jared almost drops his fork. _Prom_. Holy shit. How the fuck could he have forgotten..? He does a quick, panicked mental tally. He stares at his plate, and all he can think is that it’s not enough time. Prom. And then graduation.

_And then what? What happens then?_

“Hey, Jared.” Sandy’s voice cuts into his frantic thoughts. “Who are you gonna ask? Are we finally going to get to meet your mystery man?”

For a second he can see it; him and Jensen dressed in crisp tuxedos, looking perfect and refined, smiling at each other as they spin on the dance floor, arms around each other. The image dissolves rapidly, replaced by numbness in his chest. 

“No.” The word sounds like it’s coming from very far away. “I’m… I’m going solo.”

Sandy frowns at him but he doesn’t say anything else. When she turns back to talking to Meg, Jared puts his fork down and pushes his tray away. 

On Friday, he happens across the thought that even if they can’t go together, they’ll both be there without a date, and that’s as close to together as they can be. Jensen will be there, and Jared will be able to look at him, imagine what it would be like if they could hold hands and watch everyone dance. Maybe even move onto the floor for a slow dance—and that last part is complete fantasy, because that one, brief mental image aside, he can’t imagine Jensen dancing, just can’t. 

But graduation. God. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen after that. Doesn’t know if he can even find the nerve to ask Jensen about it. 

He doesn’t say anything after school, but when he walks home, sticky and sated; he already knows he’s going straight to Jensen’s tomorrow. 

Saturday morning, it finally dawns on him that he’s not leaving for college until late August. Even without school, he’ll still be able to see Jensen for a couple of months. It might not be perfect, it probably won’t be every day, but it’s better than nothing. It’s a huge weight off his mind, and even his chest feels lighter. By the time he’s finished dressing; he’s smiling and feeling normal again. When he walks out the door, the only thing he’s thinking about is what might happen today.

He is no way prepared for what actually does.

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

Jensen looks just as amazing in a plain white tee shirt as he does in button down shirts—especially tee shirts that cling across his chest and caress the muscles in his shoulders, leaving the rest of his arms bare. In faded Levi’s with the knees ripped out, the pants cuff hems just starting to fray. On anyone else Jared would think it looked trashy, but on Jensen (like everything else) it’s just crazy hot. Especially with the glasses still perched on his nose, perfect and precise as his movements. The contrast in styles, Jared thinks, could be _deadly_ to anyone who… has eyes. Jensen steps back to let him in.

Jared walks to the desk, already unbuttoning his pants, starting to toe out of his shoes as he reaches it. 

Jensen doesn’t sit down. Jared can hear him doing something in the kitchen, and Jared’s been standing there a good while with no one else in the room when he realizes he hasn’t moved a muscle the whole time. Huh. He’s not sure he’ll ever get used to the whole naked and exposed thing, though. But he guesses that’s kinda the point.

When Jensen comes back, he doesn’t sit down. “Take off the rest of your clothes,” he says, and walks down the hall to the bedroom, instead. Jared unbuttons his shirt and shrugs out of it. He starts to put his hands back on the desk and feels his stomach flop like a fish when Jensen calls him to the room.

Jared’s stomach tightens with anticipation as he walks down the hall, cock hardening between his thighs. Jensen’s sitting on the end of the bed, facing the headboard, still fully dressed. 

“Come here and sit,” he says, and points to spot further up the same side of the bed. Jared sits down, facing Jensen, heart pitter pattering nervously.

“Why do you keep coming here, Jared?” He seems genuinely curious. “What is it that you want?”

Jensen’s not stupid—Jensen’s not even from the same universe ‘stupid’ was invented in—so why does he keep asking Jared the same question? 

“Don’t want anything but to be around you,” Jared protests.

“Because I’m so sweet to you?” he asks, like it’s not a question. Arch of his brows, quirk of his mouth, words thrown like he already knows the answer.

Jared swallows hard. “That’s not a fair question.” 

Something shifts in Jensen’s eyes, a sharpening of pupils. “Tell me why it’s not fair.” 

Jared struggles with the words for a moment, doesn’t want to give them, but Jensen _asked_. “Because… it’s not a real question. You’re…” he pauses, thinks hard about what he means to say. “You think you already know the answer, so it doesn’t matter what I say.” 

“You’re right,” Jensen says. “I do already know the answer to that one. It’s the answer to the first question I don’t understand. There has to be something more you want than just being around,” Jensen insists. He’s so sure that Jared has to wonder. “I’ll prove it to you. If you could have one wish about what was going to happen today—if you could pick one thing that _you_ want to happen—what would it be?”

Jared licks his lips, tongues over dry skin, and Jensen’s waiting, expecting. Jensen’s mouth, his body so close to Jared’s, and it feels like he’s in class and he’d better get the answer right. He wonders if there _is_ a right or a wrong answer to the question, if there’s something specific Jensen wants to hear. Not that it really matters, because he’s only got one answer in his heart. “I’d want to do something for you, for once.”

There’s a long moment where Jensen blinks, breathes, and just looks at Jared. "Why do you want to do something for me?" 

And okay, Jared is completely blown by the fact that Jensen needs to ask him this. It seems pretty obvious to Jared. "Because I want to give something back to _you_. I want to be able to make you feel good, too." 

Jensen looks surprised, like he doesn't quite believe Jared. It’s true. It’s not all of it, but the rest of the truth is a hard, sharp swell inside Jared’s chest, words he can't quite seem to force out. He takes a deep breath, does the best he can. "Because you’re _not_ sweet to me. You stand up to me. You challenge me to be better, smarter, try harder, and because of you, I am, I do. And because of that I want to give you something, too. I…want to make you happy."

Jensen is so perfectly still that he might not be breathing. "Jared…" the word comes out as a whisper. And then Jensen shakes his head, like he’s giving up on whatever else he was going to say. 

His hot mouth closes over Jared’s, smooth slide of tongue, fingers trailing over Jared’s cheeks. It’s like warm molasses, thick and sweet as Jensen kisses him back into the bed, Jensen’s hands cupping his face, body sprawled out on top, hips moving in a gentle roll, like waves washing over Jared. Slow pull of hands through Jared’s hair, all over his body, and he arches into Jensen, moaning. Runs his hands through the short spikes of hair, kissing, touching until both of them are breathless. 

Jensen pulls back, lips still slick, whispers for Jared to turn over. Jared closes his eyes and then he does, spreads his legs and wonders why Jensen won’t ever look him in the face when they do this. Twenty minutes later, after Jensen’s rimmed him stupid and brainless, Jensen fucks into him slow and hard, deep pumping thrusts that make Jared clutch the sheets, writhe and gasp and lose his fucking mind. He can feel everything, so much more intense with Jensen’s cock moving slow and heavy inside him, and when Jensen finally lets him come, it’s fucking amazing; spinning out from his stomach in waves, so slow and sweet, until he’s trembling, shaking, gasping. Jensen’s hands stroking over him until he comes, too, shivering and biting out whispered curses.

After, he lays there with Jared a while, bodies sweat-slick and pressed together, no sound but their hearts beating, lungs rising and falling, Jensen’s fingers moving over his skin in slow patterns, breath hot against Jared’s shoulder.

Finally he moves, rises to his knees and pulls out with a sharp indrawn breath. Jared twitches a little, but he doesn’t feel as empty this time, Jensen fingers rubbing his thighs, sending shivers snaking up through his spine.

“Gonna clean up,” he whispers.

Jared feels him rise from the bed, hears him pad across soft carpet. Sound of a door shutting, water running. Too easy to imagine Jensen there, steam rising all around him in the shower, beautiful naked skin, so smooth against Jared's body—skin he's never seen. He imagines himself getting up, walking into the bathroom, sliding back the curtain and joining him. Washcloth in Jared's hands, swirling silky bubbles over Jensen's chest, down his stomach.

He rolls over on the bed, belly a sticky mess, comforter soft and dry against his back. He tucks his hands under his head and lays there, not quite brave enough to do anything he's imagining.

His eyes snap open when the door opens a few minutes later, blinking and disoriented, on the edge of sleep. He isn't prepared for Jensen emerging from the bathroom, wearing nothing but a white towel slung low around his waist, skin still glistening wet. His chest and stomach, chiseled like a Michelangelo sculpture, skin tanned and freckled everywhere, just like his face. Water beading over the expanse, light catching and reflecting, accentuating every curve of muscle and sinew. Hair wild, standing up in spiky waves, darkened with wetness, almost brown. No glasses on his face now, and he's somehow even more beautiful without them; completely human, eyes so very, very green. The symmetry of the bones in his face in tandem with the cut of his body is almost too much. 

Jared sits up slow, blinks to awareness. "You… are fucking gorgeous," he says. 

Jensen looks mildly surprised—not, Jared thinks, because he's never heard that particular line before; Jared's pretty fucking sure he's heard it a _lot_ \-- like maybe… he forgot, for just a second, the way he looks. That Jared has never seen him like this. And that makes Jared wonder, suddenly, how many people have seen Jensen like this. How many people has he done this with? Does he _only_ do this? Has he ever... done anything else? Ever… maybe cared about someone?

It's a strange thought, and one Jared can't believe he's never had before. 

Jensen walks to the bed, knees and calves flexing, and Jared's fascinated by the play of muscles beneath the skin. There is no creak as he sits down on the end, towel hanging dangerously low. Jared can see the crease where his thigh begins, hard diagonal line that disappears under the soft weave. The hollow between his hips, where it dips and points, hinting at the bare curve of his ass. 

He leans in, kisses Jared, barest flick of his tongue between Jared's lips, and Jared shivers, wants so much to lay his hands all over that bare skin, touch and memorize every inch. But Jensen doesn't touch him with his hands, just his mouth. "We only do _this_ " he seems to say without uttering a word.

But… Jensen's practically naked, and so close, kissing him. He thinks he ought to get a pass for this, because _Jesus_ , the temptation is insane. Jared lifts his hands, slides them over Jensen's bare shoulders, skin soft as silk, warm and firm. Pulls him in, chest to chest, and Christ, he feels _good_. 

Jensen presses a hand against Jared's collarbone, gentle pressure that separates them by centimeters. "The shower's yours," he says, even and level. Jared can still feel his breath ghost over his lips; warm, inviting, taste and scent of mint toothpaste.

"Don't want to shower," Jared whispers. "Want to touch you. Lick you. Everywhere."

"Really?" Jensen's voice is gritty, rough. Close, they're so close, and Jared can feel the warmth of Jensen's shoulders under his hands, the breath he takes before he speaks again, slow draw of air. "And I should let you do this, because..?" 

"Because it'll make you feel good." Jared breathes out, licks the swell of Jensen's lip. "It's kind of its own reward."

Jensen shakes his head, slow slide back and forth over Jared's mouth. "It doesn't work that way."

Jared shivers, eyes fluttering closed. He doesn't understand—and _fuck_ this feels good—but Jensen sounds so sure. "Why doesn't it?"

"Law of conservation." He catches Jared's lower lip between his teeth, tongue painting a smooth line across it before he releases. "Didn't we cover this in class?"

Only Jensen could make physics sound sexy. Thermodynamics again; Jared's amazed he can even remember with Jensen kissing him like this. "You can't get something for nothing." 

"Not you," Jensen agrees in a bare whisper. Swipe of his tongue, slide of his hands up Jared's waist. "Not even me."

Jared files that away in a mental folder labeled 'Later'. Right now there are more important things to consider. Like what Jensen's doing with his tongue and what Jared's willing to trade for this. 

He takes a breath. "I'd do anything to touch you, put my hands and mouth all over you."

"Anything?" Jensen asks, wicked arch of his brows, word blown across Jared's lips. There's something in his eyes, a glimmer, and just for a second, Jared questions himself.

"You got something worse than making me come in class?" Jared asks. Because, well, _really_.

"Wanna find out?" He's smiling, lazy and slow, like a lion; Jared can feel it, hear it, see it in his eyes.

And he's the worst kind of idiot, fucking turned completely inside out for this guy, because he knows Jensen probably does have something worse, and Jared _does not CARE_. He probably should, but _Jesus_ , Jensen's sitting here practically naked and Jared has his hands on Jensen's _skin_. It's not even a choice.

"Yes." He leans into the heat of Jensen's mouth. Barest graze of skin, and Jensen turns his chin, glides his mouth over Jared's. Jensen sighs into Jared and licks inside—slick and so hot, tip flashing behind Jared's lower lip, swirling slow, up and over his tongue. Not like Jensen couldn't convince him to do whatever Jensen wanted anyway, with that fucking mouth, those hands, his body and his mind. 

"Go clean up," Jensen whispers into his mouth, pulls back with a scrape of teeth over Jared's tongue.

It's not a 'yes', but it's not a 'no', either, and Jared takes the quickest shower of his life. His heart is thudding inside his chest, heavy beat he can feel, rhythm through his ribs and his skin as he washes. He barely towels off when he climbs out; glancing glide over his body, rubs it into his hair a few times. Strokes his fingers through the mess of wet strands, glances in the mirror—it's a huge thing, encompassing the whole wall above the long, marble counter, and he can't help but notice that everything is pristine, gleaming and polished—pronounces it good enough, slings the towel around his waist as an afterthought.

The comforter has been stripped off, down to the plain white sheets—that's the first thing and the last thing he notices. Because Jensen's lying in the middle of the bed, head resting on a pillow, arms laced underneath it. Light clings to him, defining shape and shadow, the cut of his muscles, the bones beneath, the bronze cast to his skin; so divine, it's fucking sinful. His neck is a smooth arch that leads to the point of his chin, tilted up and back, eyes dark and smoky, half-lidded as they meet Jared's over the rise of his cheekbones. Body stretched out in relaxed repose, wide chest and curve of lats from under his arms, dipping to the narrow line of his waist, sharp angle of hipbones. Perfect stomach, six muscles there smoothing out into the enticing, almost v-shape that disappears beneath the towel thrown across him. One knee drawn up, towel falling between, barely covering the space between his thighs, and Jared forgets how to fucking _breathe_ , because Jesus fucking _Christ_.

"Take off the towel," Jensen says, "and come here."

Jared pulls the tucked end of the towel free, throws it on top of the comforter rolled in the corner of the room. His mouth is dry as he crawls onto the bed on all fours, up beside Jensen. Just the _thought_ of touching, licking, kissing all that skin is making him hard all over again, stealing his breath and pretty much any ability to think.

Jensen's thumbs close around Jared's wrists, fingers over the backs. Their eyes meet and Jensen looks… almost like he's testing Jared as he pulls Jared's hands in, down, presses them, palms flat to his chest. There's a hard shine of curiosity to the hazy green, so sharp it's almost metallic. He holds Jared's hands there for a moment, just looking at him, and Jared can feel Jensen's heart, quickening throb under his palm.

And then he pulls away, thumbs stroking over Jared's wrists as he goes, slides his hands back under his head and watches.

For a second, Jared has no fucking clue what to do, mind blank, stomach in his throat—and then Jensen breathes in deep. He feels Jensen's chest rise, muscles expanding over bone, wants to touch him everywhere at once. He remembers again, suddenly, that he has no idea how many people Jensen has done this with. And what _is_ this, anyway?

Doesn't matter. None of it does. Even if Jensen's had a hundred guys in his room. Even if he's had a hundred better fucks, a hundred more experienced hands on him, a hundred better bodies underneath him. Jared _wants_ this.

He stretches his body out carefully alongside Jensen's, leans in, spreads his fingers and licks the line dividing Jensen's pecs. Slides his hands out, down around, fingertips curling, dragging over Jensen's ribs, texture of bone and softness between. Lave of tongue along the ridges underneath Jensen's chest, firm muscle, smooth skin, scent of soap. He tastes clean, and for a second, Jared wishes he was salty, sweaty, musky; wants to taste the realness of him. He licks up over the swell, circles the brown of Jensen's nipple, and Jensen takes a quick breath, chest rising under Jared's mouth, so he opens it, lets it melt around the nub. Jensen twitches, makes a soft sound Jared's not sure he's heard before. Suckles, tonguing at the hard tip, gentle close of teeth around. Jensen's hands come down, slide into Jared's hair, fingers twisting, tugging. Emboldened, he nips the tender skin, feels Jensen jump, fingers clutching—and holy fucking shit, he's actually doing this. And Jensen is _letting him_. Of all the things he imagined happening today, this wasn’t one of them.

He licks one more time, slides his tongue across and envelops Jensen's other nipple with his mouth, sucks hard, teasing scrapes of teeth over the texture. He wants to put his mouth everywhere, wants to hurry so he doesn't miss a spot, but he forces himself to go slow, teases back and forth, tonguing and biting, fingers stroking down Jensen's hips, thumbs tracing the inner crease until Jensen's twisting under him, grunting and moaning, fingers working Jared's hair into a tangle. He teases until he can breathe across the hardened skin and feel Jensen twitch, and then he licks up to the hollow of Jensen's throat, tongues the sweat beginning to form there, traces the shape, fingers gliding up Jensen's sides. Follows the line of his collarbone with tiny licks and nibbles, lets his mouth drag and skid up Jensen's throat. 

He sinks his teeth into the thick cord of muscle there, feels Jensen shiver, hands tightening, pulling him in harder, closer. Bites and sucks, circles his tongue, pushing deep, and when his teeth catch the barest edge of skin, pinching it between, Jensen throws his head back and groans. He's starting to sweat harder, salt and soap mixing in Jared's mouth and Jared licks it up hungrily, runs his hands through the wetness on Jensen's stomach, his chest. Takes the tiny buds of Jensen's nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and squeezes them, feels Jensen shudder and moan, chest and neck pushing into Jared like he wants more. 

It makes total sense that Jensen's body would respond like any other guy's to what Jared's doing, but Jared's amazed. He'd expected Jensen to be more controlled, not this twisting thing underneath him, pulling and tugging like he can't get enough, and Jared wonders when the last time was that anyone touched Jensen like this.

"Gonna take my time with you," Jared whispers, lets his mouth close over Jensen's ear, warm exhale, hint of teeth. Jensen's hands tighten convulsively in Jared's hair, and then he's turning. Jensen’s teeth sink into his lower lip, flare of bright, sweet-sharp pain. His eyes are dark, pupils huge, flaring heat at the edges of the iris.

“Fucking tease,” he growls. "I knew you'd be a fucking tease."

Jared feels his whole body catch on fire at the tone of Jensen's voice, rough and raw, like an animal's snarl. 

“Learned from the best,” Jared purrs into his mouth, sweeps his tongue inside. 

“Flattery,” Jensen pants, nipping at him again, “is not going to get you anything else.”

“Not flattery. Besides…” He licks the line of Jensen’s jaw, up behind his ear, bites the lobe, rolls Jensen’s nipples between his fingers. “Don’t need anything else.” 

Jensen’s hands flex against the back of his skull, tug him in, slide down through his hair to his shoulders, down his back. Hard hands grip Jared around the waist as he spirals his tongue inside Jensen’s ear. He isn’t ready when he’s yanked on top of Jensen’s body, breath of surprise whuffing out. Jensen’s hands slide down, clench in the muscles of Jared’s ass and they both gasp. Jensen’s hard, hot and throbbing through the towel, thick line of him molded against Jared’s dick. And then he pulls away, slow trail of fingers like he doesn’t want to let go, all the way back up Jared’s body, slipping back into his hair. 

“Come on, you fucking tease,” Jensen whispers, voice thick and velvety against Jared’s mouth. “What are you waiting for?”

Jesus _Christ_. The amount of fucking _sexy_ that Jensen is right now should be outlawed. “For you to shut the fuck up,” Jared answers, voice wavering. He has no idea where the words or the breath come from, because Jesus fucking _Christ_. He’s shaking, hips trembling against Jensen’s, heart completely out of control, herd of wild horses thundering through every vein.

Jensen’s mouth is searing, crushing as it collides with Jared’s, pull of fingers through his hair. “Make me,” he growls.

Jared kisses him back hard, tongue plunging deep, slick swirl and slide of him, and god, he’s so fucking _hot_ , even like this—especially like this. Daring Jared, taunting and challenging him with every thrust of their tongues, his thumbs sinking into Jared’s face. Jared slides his hands up Jensen’s chest, lean muscle under his fingertips, and fuck, he feels amazing, moving and breathing underneath him. Over his collarbone and up the sides of his neck, sharp angle of jaw bone, gripping the soft skin of his cheeks. Squeezes with both hands, thumbs Jensen’s jaw open wider, delves and catches Jensen’s tongue between his lips. Sucks it in slow, tonguing the underside, takes him all the way and then sucks like he wants to suck Jensen’s cock, tip to base, quick and hard and dirty, flashes of tongue underneath, again and again.

Jensen moans, muffled into his mouth, fingers pulling at Jared’s jaw, and Jared lets him slide free, bites the soft flesh of his mouth, tender spot beneath his chin. Thumbs down the veins in his throat, pulse point throbbing, dart of tongue to the sweat pooling in the hollow of his throat, and he tastes musky, alive and _real_ , heart fluttering under Jared’s mouth and hands. Drag of lips down his chest, tongue circling his nipple, hands forming a vee at the bottom of his throat. Jensen’s trembling, shuddering, shivering, and yes, this is what Jared wants, where he wants to be. Jensen falling apart under him. Wants to make him feel like he makes Jared feel all the time.

Jared takes the time to tongue over every ridge in Jensen’s stomach, fingers trailing and tracing behind. Licks every bit of skin, leaves his whole belly wet, fingertips pushing through spit and sweat. 

“God fucking dammit,” Jensen groans, fingers caught under the muscles in Jared’s shoulders. 

“You love it,” Jared says, nips at the dip of Jensen’s belly button. He looks up, lets his tongue linger while he does. Jensen’s watching him, eyes burning, eating Jared alive. Jared doesn't blink, loves the feeling of Jensen’s eyes on him, dips his tongue into the hollow of Jensen's belly button, swirls his tongue out and lets Jensen see the twist of it. Fingers delineating the lines of Jensen's hips, he doesn't look away when he sucks at the spot just above the towel, flashes his tongue under the edge. Tips of his fingers tracing the skin at the edge of the cloth, he stares back with everything inside him, everything he wants to do.

Jensen lets go of him with one hand, fists it in the material, dragging soft whisper against skin and then it's gone, body bare beneath Jared.

“Do it,” he hisses. “Wanna watch you do it.”

 _Oh, God, yes. FINALLY._ Jared uncoils like a spring down Jensen’s body, bites the rise of the pelvic bone between his hips, drags his tongue down the fine trail of hair to where it widens. Bites and kisses there, cheek nuzzling the heat between Jensen’s legs, rubbing against Jensen’s cock. Lets his mouth drag over the head as he turns his cheek, rubs it like a cat against Jensen, faint taste of musk and salt, slickness of Jensen over his lips. Thumbs pushed into the hollows of his hips, fingers stroking down the sides. 

“Fucking do it,” Jensen grates, pushes up with his hips. 

Jared can’t help it; smiles, turns his face into the motion, lets his tongue snake out, slip across the wet tip. Back up onto Jensen’s belly, eyes lifting to find his.

Jensen’s staring right back, fingers fused to Jared’s shoulders, neck taut and pulled down tight. “You are enjoying this way too much,” he says, voice precise and deadly.

“Only because you are,” Jared says, licks down Jensen’s cock like a lollipop, holds his eyes.

“ _Hope_ you’re enjoying it,” Jensen says. “Because you are _so_ gonna pay for it.” The look in his eyes is bordering on murderous, and Jared suddenly remembers that he’s on borrowed time here. 

He licks soft over the head again, watches Jensen watch him do it, and then he sucks it between his lips. Jensen’s eyes smolder and Jared closes his, gives over to the moment. Lifts up and twists his neck, snake-shaped curves of his mouth down the length, back of his tongue pressing against the head, sucks back out smooth and fast. Jensen’s hips buck, nails digging into his shoulders, cutting sharp, the kind of pain that means he’s just done something _good_ , so he does it again—slow and precise, again, again. He’s never taken this kind of time, this kind of thought and care with anyone. It’s worth every second.

“Your hot fucking mouth. So pretty, wrapped around my cock.” Jensen’s hips surge into Jared, cock slamming hard and fast to the back of his throat. Jared moans around the fullness of him, pulls back to the tip and licks under the head. Circles around it and pushes down with his thumbs until Jensen’s stuttering against him, cursing him with every word Jared’s ever heard and a few in languages he doesn’t know; the meaning is still clear.

He hollows his cheeks and surges all the way down, quick pulls of his neck muscles, and Jensen goes rigid underneath him, fingernails like knives under his skin, and he doesn’t care, wants this. Jensen’s hands yank and tug at his hair, try to pull him away, but there’s no fucking way he’s giving this up.

“God. Fuck,” Jensen moans and gives a full-body shudder, hips drawing up off the bed. Jared’s eyes flash open, watch Jensen’s head snap back. Mouth open, eyes shut, hard lines at the corners, wrinkle between his brows and he gasps, goes taut, fingers clutching everywhere, like he can’t settle on one spot.

Jared keeps watching as the first splash hits the back of his throat, burning hot, Jensen’s face contorted in utter pleasure, stomach muscles convulsing. He swallows quick then dives, draws, neck pumping, laves the underside of Jensen’s cock with his tongue and milks every burst, swallowing around the head with each thrust. He keeps some in his mouth, bitter and salty and the best thing he’s ever tasted, because fuck, Jensen’s _grinding_ hips against his mouth, fingers clenched in his neck, body gridlocked tight, gasping out Jared’s name. Jared doesn’t stop, except to open his mouth a little, hot come sliding out, dripping down Jensen’s dick, and then he licks up every aftershock, feels Jensen’s cock shiver, twitch against his tongue. 

Jensen’s arching, hips angling crazy off the bed, and it feels like he’s going to rip Jared’s head off, fluttering, twitching, shaking, until Jared finally lets go with a wet pop. 

“Jesus motherfucking Christ,” Jensen whispers out, fingers slipping away from Jared like he can’t hold on anymore.

But Jared isn’t done yet. Locks eyes with Jensen and lets his tongue flick out, lick under the head and then flatten out, dragging down the base. There isn’t a word for the sound Jensen makes when Jared starts swirling his tongue, sweeping up the come he let drip down. He cleans Jensen’s cock, then glides down to his balls, licks up every stray drop, lets his tongue taste every inch of velvety texture, nice and slow, Jensen quaking and quivering and cursing him the whole time. 

When he’s finally done, he sits up, strokes his hands down Jensen’s thighs and looks at him. He’s so gorgeous, canvas of bare skin over perfect muscle and bone. Jensen’s panting, staring back at him. 

“You are so fucking sexy,” Jensen pants out. “But it’s not gonna save you.”

Jared starts to lay down, wanting to feel Jensen against him. He’s halfway there when Jensen slides his hands up Jared’s arms, pulls him down on top.

Jared falls against his mouth, kissing slow and wet, sinking in. Body, hot and firm under him, and he runs his hands down Jensen’s sides, back up to the hollow of his throat. Jared’s hard again, pressing against Jensen’s belly, the softening line of his cock. He trails his fingertips up Jensen’s neck, smoothes his palms out over Jensen’s cheekbones, holds Jensen still as he dives deep with his tongue, circling and sucking. Jensen exhales hard, winds his fingers up through Jared’s hair. Their jaws work and move together, open and close, taking and giving. It’s slow and it’s sweet, and Jared knows he can’t be imagining this, the way it feels between them right now. Like equals, like lovers. So _close_ , no barriers. 

Jared pulls back and catches his breath, opens his eyes.

Jensen’s lips are still parted, red and shiny from their kisses, his whole face suffused with lazy want. Jensen’s eyes open, and they’re warm, liquid green. A fierce light shines in them, intense; so raw it hits Jared like a punch to the gut, leaves him breathless, stunned. 

Then the world flips sideways and Jared’s suddenly on his back, Jensen on all fours, crouched over his body. Jensen licks slow up his stomach, and Jared shivers, feels fingers climbing up his chest, over his skin.

“My turn,” he growls. “Show you how to tease.”

Jared shivers at the promise—which actually sounds more like a threat. “You tease me all the time,” Jared says, breathing hard. 

“You _think_ I do.” There’s an almost dangerous glint in Jensen’s eyes, and Jared’s stomach starts dancing with butterflies. Jensen licks back down Jared’s body, slides a hand around Jared’s cock and strokes. Jared pushes into Jensen’s palm, thinks this doesn’t feel a whole lot like teasing, or torture. Then Jared feels Jensen’s lips press against the head of his cock, and anything like rational thought just fucking evaporates.

He’s shaking a little, stomach twisted in knots, focus of the entire world narrowed to his eager cock and Jensen’s lips, warm against it. 

_Is he really going to…?_

Jensen’s mouth closes around him, wet and sleek and hot, and then he _slides_ , tongue curling against the underside until Jared hits the back of his throat.

“Oh my God, Oh my _God_ ,” Jared pants out, twists his head to the side, fingers grabbing the covers in a death grip. “Fuck. Fuck. Jesus fucking Christ, Jensen. Your _mouth_.”

Jensen makes a rough sound like a chuckle, and Jared feels the vibration ripple around his cock, delicious humming that races up his spine and explodes out through every nerve. His cock is diamond hard, encased by soft lips and tongue, and he feels like the whole world is being pulled out from under him when Jensen tightens his mouth and _sucks_ , pulling back up the length, that tongue painting patterns up the vein on the underside. 

“Oh God, _God_.” His hips rise off the bed, shivering, twitching, following the motion of Jensen’s pull, and then he stops suddenly, frozen as Jensen pushes down again. Wet, tight heat all around him, sucking slow to the bottom, and Jesus Christ, he already knew Jensen could perform miracles with his tongue, but this is in an entirely different class. Just the thought of Jensen doing this is usually enough to push Jared embarrassingly close to coming, and Jensen’s going at it like he’s going for the gold, not giving Jared a second to breathe. Jared can feel Jensen wrap his thumb and forefinger around the top of Jared’s balls like he’s done before, loop a little tighter than usual, and then he _tugs_ on Jared, laves his tongue over the head of Jared’s cock, sucks quick back down the length. Jared gasps for air, hips twitching again, because Christ that’s good.

And God, he’s got to fucking _see_ this. He lifts his head.

He can see the muscles bunch and relax in Jensen’s neck, the way his jaw muscles ripple under the skin as he works. Plush lips locked tight, and his green eyes are hooded, burning as he looks up at Jared. It’s too fucking much, seeing Jensen with his mouth wrapped around Jared’s dick, lips shiny wet, cock glistening. Without breaking his gaze, Jensen stops, pulls off and tongues right under the crown, burst of pleasure from the tiny cluster of nerves that Jared feels shoot through him like a rocket. He shudders violently, feels his orgasm surge up as Jensen does it _again_ , smiling around his slick tongue. And then he locks his lips around the head, sucks, shoves down with a hard twist of his head.

“Oh my Jesus fucking God,” Jared gasps, feels his head snap back, his stomach seize, balls tightening, and fuck, he’s going to come so fucking hard. Jensen’s fingers tighten around his sac, tighter than Jared’s ever felt them before, and he can feel his orgasm rushing, pulsing up toward the vein in his cock. Every muscle in his body tenses and his cock twitches, pleasure drawing out too long, too long, and he’s shivering, trembling, thrusting with his hips, desperate for it. His balls feel like they’re going to explode, tingling, so full and tight. Jagged shove of hips and Jensen’s mouth is smooth, sucking him so hard he can feel it to the tips of his toes, and fuck, he’s going to die if he doesn’t—

Jensen pulls his mouth away and Jared cries out, pushing up reflexively with his hips. “Don’t stop,” he pleads.

“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen says, stroking lazy fingers down Jared’s cock. He runs them through the slickness of his own spit like he’s testing the texture of it, and Jared shoves into the touch, moans, so close, right on the edge—

“You can twist all you want,” Jensen goes on, voice like velvet, fingertip running under the rim of Jared’s cock head. Jared leaps like he’s been struck by lightning, flash of pure pleasure ripping through him, and his balls seize again, trying to push, pump.

“As long as I keep my fingers right here…” Jensen says, squeezing Jared lightly and he jumps, hips twisting, because Jesus fuck, he’s so ready, everything over sensitized, stressed and needing. His balls surge again and Jared’s eyes fly wide, fingers clutching the bed.

Jensen squeezes him again like he’s making a point. “I can keep you on the edge of coming for as long as I want,” Jensen finishes, tip of his tongue flicking out, teasing the slit.

_Oh, God. No no no no no no_

Jared hisses in a breath, body coiling tight in anticipation of release, and Jensen squeezes again, wraps his lips around Jared and sends explosions ripping through him. Chain reaction from his dick, feeding up through his belly to his brain, backing into his balls, and when they finally stop firing, his whole body is quaking, every nerve stretched taut, balls and cock contracting uselessly, still screaming for release. He’s drenched in sweat, muscles spasming in random patterns through his thighs, across his lower back, and Jensen’s looking down at Jared’s cock like he’s deciding what to do with it next.

“Please. Need…” Jared whispers, twitching, ragged and broken. 

“Need something?” Jensen asks, low playfulness to his voice. While Jared watches, Jensen sucks his own middle finger into his mouth and wets it. He pushes it inside Jared and oh fucking _God_ , his whole body seizes tight again, balls pulsing. Violent pleasure courses straight up his spine as Jensen pushes against that spot, nerves exploding like fireworks all around the pressure. Jared is arching up off the bed, jaw opening and closing like a fish, and then Jensen brings his mouth down over Jared’s cock and swallows him whole.

The world flashes in and out between waves of torturous pleasure. They spiral through him, coil tight and spill out again and again, ceaseless as the tide. Jensen sucks him hard, pushes into that spot ruthlessly, fingers locked around the top of Jared’s balls until everything else is a meaningless blur, cock flushed, spasming uselessly, mouth open in a steady stream of meaningless sounds, muscles twitching, body seizing and thrashing.

When Jensen finally rips his mouth away, Jared barely understands what’s happening.

“Come on, Jared,” Jensen says, fingering him with lazy pushes. “Beg me for it.” The words sink through the fog, penetrate somehow, and the second he finds words again, they pour out of him like a flood, begging, pleading, almost sobbing.

Jensen sucks the head of Jared’s cock into his mouth and makes a _Hmmm_ sound, like he’s thinking about Jared’s pleas. Jared’s body contracts like he’s having a seizure, and then Jensen crooks his finger inside, sends Jared’s hips surging up off the bed—right down Jensen’s throat. He’s still reeling from the shock of pleasure that tears through him when Jensen strokes the thumb of the hand inside Jared across the taut, sweet ache of his balls. Another wave of body wracking shakes, every nerve standing on end, tingling and full of blood, dancing on the edge of a knife blade. And then Jensen pushes a second finger inside him, crooks his knuckles and pushes them apart, runs his thumb over Jared’s balls again and slams his mouth down on Jared. One sweet slide and pull, two, and Jared’s cheeks are wet, sheets soaking through with sweat, body rattling like he’s going to fly apart. He’s never felt like this; exquisite agony, like dying and being born over and over with each thrust of Jensen’s mouth. Three, four—crook, push, brush, lick, suck and—

Jensen lets go and Jared comes instantaneously. He comes so fucking hard that he turns his head and bites into the pillow, hands fisting in the sheets, legs thrashing, hips bucking, screams given long and loud into feathered down, come pumping out of him in long, heavy gouts. Jensen’s mouth is still on him, fingers inside him, tugging on his balls now, and he feels it rise like a volcanic eruption, winding even higher, harder, more intense. Like a hurricane tearing through him, and it’s so fucking intense that it’s somewhere beyond pleasure and pain. Too much, too much, too much--and his brain gives up, checks out. It leaves him flopping on the bed, helplessly spasming into Jensen’s mouth until he’s pulsing dry, shivering and crying, rippling with aftershocks. It fades out slow, leaves him in darkness.

He’s distantly aware when Jensen starts kissing him, lips soft and plying until Jared opens to him. Jensen’s tongue slides inside with push of warm liquid, bitterness and salt flooding Jared’s mouth and he makes a muffled sound, opens wider, licks eagerly into Jensen’s mouth. He laps hungrily at the roof of Jensen’s mouth, the hardness of his teeth as Jensen feeds him come with slow pushes of his tongue. Jensen’s hands cupping the shape of his skull, breathing unsteady against Jared, slickness shared, slip and slide of their tongues, coating their lips, smearing, smooth glide as they angle their chins, Jared sucking, Jensen pumping it in with slow thrusts. Jared wants it to go on forever, holds it as long as he can, tongues tangling through and around it, until he finally swallows, tiny bit trickling from the corner of his mouth. He moans, licks back into Jensen, seeking out every trace, tongue swirling until all he can taste is Jensen. He sucks Jensen’s tongue one last time, and Jensen _mmm’s_ into him, kisses out slow.

As soon as he pulls away, he slips a finger between them, traces the outline of Jared’s lips, tip running through the slippery stickiness. Jared feels him swipe up the line that trickled out, opens his eyes just in time to see Jensen put his finger between his lips, and suck it clean. The sight hits Jared like a sledgehammer, and his limp cock pulses weakly, vain attempt to rise again, because dear God that’s fucking crazy hot.

Jensen goes back to stroking over Jared’s mouth, and Jared sucks in the same fingertip Jensen just cleaned, circles his tongue around it. There’s no taste left, but that just makes it hotter.

“No permanent damage, then?” Jensen asks, hint of a smile as he slips his finger free of Jared’s mouth, runs it back and forth over Jared’s lower lip.

“No,” Jared says. “But that was…”

“The best orgasm of your life?” Jensen asks with an arch of one brow.

“I was gonna go with ‘mean’,” Jared says. Jensen just keeps looking at him expectantly, smile playing around his mouth, and finally Jared sighs. “Yeah.”

Jensen’s smiling; a little too satisfied for Jared’s liking. 

“Wait,” he says, thought suddenly striking him. “And I still have to do anything you want, after all that?”

“You think it’s an unfair trade?” Jensen’s brows rise.

After a moment, Jared shakes his head. “No. But I have… I have a condition.”

“What? No.” Jensen’s hand stills against Jared, his mouth thinning. “No conditions.”

“Fine, call it a suggestion, then,” Jared sighs. 

Jensen squints at him, nods. “I’m listening.”

Jared tries hard to hold the gaze between them. Clears his throat and summons his courage. “Whatever it is, make sure it’s not a lesson, or a punishment.”

“What, then?” Jensen asks without missing a beat.

“Make sure it’s… something _you_ really want. Something just for you.”

Jensen’s eyes slip closed and he slowly shakes his head, exhales. “Jared.” His eyes flutter open, fix on Jared’s face, and Jared isn’t sure what he sees there, but it’s something he hasn’t seen before. “Are you always like this?” Jensen teases a finger along the line of Jared’s jaw. “Always giving things to people like this?”

“No. Usually I’m an asshole,” Jared says and chuckles.

“That’s what I thought.” Jensen nods, like he’s thinking about that, fingertips pausing under Jared’s ear. “So why are you different with me?”

“Because _you’re_ different.”

Jensen snorts. “I’m pretty sure you got the memo that I’m usually an asshole, too.”

“Yeah. It’s kinda part of your charm,” Jared says. 

“See how charming you think it is when I throw you out on your ass,” Jensen says and smirks.

“Is that gonna be any time soon?” Jared asks, trying for teasing. “Because I was feeling really comfy, right here.”

“Oh, see. You _think_ you’re cute.” Jensen thumbs at Jared’s lower lip, seems to think it over for a second, shrugs. “You can stay a while. But you’re going to have to help me get some work done.” 

Before they get to the work, though, they get dressed, and then Jensen teaches Jared the serious business of how to grill a steak properly. _Never, EVER, poke it with a fork or all the juice will run out while it cooks._. He also shows Jared a trick using the flesh of your thumb to compare to the steak for doneness, so you don’t even have to cut it open. While the steaks are grilling, Jensen has Jared sauté onions and mushrooms in white wine—something Jared does with Jensen over his shoulder, guiding him every step of the way. The kitchen smells spectacular by the time they’re done, and when they sit down to eat the steaks, they slather them in the sautéed vegetables. Jared cuts into his, mouth watering, and it’s cooked perfectly medium, tastes like a dream.

When they’re done eating, Jensen has him carry a bunch of books out to the back patio. It’s nicely secluded by bushes and cypress trees, perfect rows of flowers spreading out down the walkway that leads to a larger sitting area. They sit, facing each other across a wrought iron table topped with glass. Jared reads the reviews at the end of each chapter in his Physics classroom book out loud to Jensen, who’s going down a list of things and occasionally asking Jared to pause while he makes a note here and there. The sun is starting to set and the sky is dripping orange and pink, painting Jensen in pastel hues and deep cut shadows. Jared can hardly keep his eyes from straying up to look at him again and again. When he’s finished reading all the reviews, the sky is deep blue, sliver of purple still lingering on the horizon, and he can see lightning bugs flickering in the yard.

Jensen takes a while longer to finish, checking a few books and making some notes, and finally he nods, satisfied. It’s not until they’re picking everything up that Jensen mentions finals, and Jared stops, realizing he just inadvertently studied for it. Jared makes a comment about Jensen’s cleverness, and Jensen doesn’t say a word—but he _winks_. He actually fucking winks at Jared and Jared almost drops the books he’s holding, because it’s just about the sexiest thing Jensen’s ever done.

Jared washes the dinner dishes while Jensen makes tea, and they talk about black holes and quasars, music and books, movies and actors. Jensen confesses that he can’t stand watching gay movies because they’re always syrupy cute and patently ridiculous, but it turns out they both have a weakness for cheesy “B” horror movies. After they’re done in the kitchen, they move into the living room and Jensen threatens Jared’s life if he ever tells anyone that Jensen owns _Plan 9 From Outer Space_. Which leads to a discussion of cult classics, and then actually watching the movie while dissecting it. When Jared asks Jensen what kind of physics are used in the movie, Jensen starts laughing harder than Jared’s ever seen him. And the night goes on, and it’s… warm. Comfortable. Even with Jared sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Jensen’s chair. Their roles haven’t changed, but something is different. Jared doesn’t care about dissecting it right now; this is pretty much a perfect evening as far as he’s concerned. He’s not looking to over think it.

Somehow, when the movie is over, Jared knows it’s time to leave; on his feet as the credits roll. Saying goodbye is just the tiniest bit awkward, but it’s not like he’s expecting a goodnight kiss. Whatever this is, it isn’t _that_ , and he’s pretty damned happy.

He walks home thinking about the look in Jensen’s eyes when they kissed earlier.

*

It’s a good week, too. Jensen’s still… well, _Jensen_ , and things are still dirty, hot and filthy. But it feels… more comfortable, almost natural. Jared spends every day after school and one memorable lunch period laying on Jensen’s desk or bent over it. On Friday, they have their final, and Jared’s pretty sure he aced it. Jensen won’t touch him until after he’s graded Jared’s final, makes him stand there in front of the desk, naked and waiting. Jensen informs him that he just barely got an “A”, and then proceeds to fuck the shit out of Jared, shoved up against the blackboard. 

On Saturday morning, he goes to get fitted for his tuxedo with Chad and Tom, so it’s late afternoon by the time he gets to Jensen’s house. Jensen doesn’t make him wait too long at the desk, pulls him back into the bedroom and they finish the list for the rest of the afternoon. Jensen makes Jared come so hard so many different ways and times that his eyes roll back in his head and he’s milked dry by the end of it all. 

Jensen fucks him slow and leisurely afterwards, hands pressed into a vee below Jared’s belly, framing his spent cock. Body flat against Jared’s back, only his hips moving, tongue trailing over Jared’s neck in a lazy line. Biting, breath shuddering into Jared’s ear as he tells Jared how tight he is, how good he is, how he took so much today. Jared moans, arches his back and Jensen inhales sharply. Jensen pushes his hands into Jared’s body, pulls Jared’s ass a little higher. Jared can feel every slip and drag, push and pull, Jensen riding him almost excruciatingly slow, like he’s in no hurry. Like maybe he’s just… enjoying himself. Locked together, sweat and skin, heat of Jensen’s mouth across his shoulders, and Jared wishes he could see Jensen’s face, see how he’s enjoying it.

Jared slides his hands down under his body, over Jensen’s hands, laces his fingers between Jensen’s. He flexes his inner muscles, feels them tighten and release around Jensen’s cock. Jensen hisses, squeezes Jared’s fingers hard, and Jared does it again. When Jensen comes, he slides all the way up inside Jared and freezes, body quivering, cock twitching, fingers clutching Jared’s, biting deep into the muscle of Jared’s throat.

Jensen pulls out, then goes limp on top of him, fingers still entwined, breathing heavy. They lie there together for a long time like that, quiet and breathing together, hearts slowing to beat almost in time through the cages of their ribs. Until the sweat dries on their skin and Jared’s starting to feel Jensen’s weight crush into him. When he draws a deep breath, Jensen finally moves, pulling his fingers free and sitting up. 

Jared stays right where he is, listens to Jensen running water in the bathroom. He turns over on his back when the door opens, and Jensen walks out in pajama pants and nothing else. He lies down on his side beside Jared, head propped up by one hand. Jared is warm, muscles rubbery, body satisfied, and Jensen strokes a hand down Jared’s cheek. Everything feels pretty much perfect. Jared knows the school year’s almost over, but at least they’ve got the weekends at Jensen’s place to look forward to. And those are always best of all.

Jared turns his face into Jensen’s touch, looks up at him and smiles, stretching. “So… what are we going to do now that the list is finished?”

Jensen shrugs. “I’ll think of something.” He’s smiling back for a second, and then his smile fades, eyes dimming. He hesitates, fingers skidding to a stop, less playful, suddenly. 

“What?” Jared asks, frowning.

“Jared…” he says in a tone that makes Jared’s 100% sure he’s really not going to like whatever Jensen’s about to say next. “You do know; we’re not going to be able to do this much longer.”

Jared’s heart skips a beat. “I… I know. I thought about it. But, I’m not leaving for college until the end of the summer, and you live within walking distance-- _long_ walking distance, but still. I mean, it won’t be every day…” he trails off, suddenly out of breath.

“Jared…” Jensen shakes his head. “I won’t be here this summer. I’m going back into the field when the school year is over.”

Jared feels like all the blood in his veins just turned to ice water. “You’re… leaving?” And, no. Just no. He must have misunderstood. 

“You knew this teaching job was only until the end of the year,” Jensen says. He’s drawing back, fingers slipping away from Jared. 

“But you _live here_.” It’s all Jared can come up with, and dammit, it’s true.

“Occasionally,” Jensen agrees with an incline of his head. He lays his arm against his side, hand that was stroking Jared resting on his own thigh now, and Jared feels the absence of his touch like a void. “But I spend most of my time other places. I travel a lot. I go where the research takes me.” Jensen’s not looking at him anymore, eyes focused somewhere across the foot of the bed. 

All week, he’s felt so close, and now Jared can feel the distance between them widening by the second. Doesn’t understand how this happened, how _fast_ it happened. So fast he feels like he has whiplash. He can’t speak, can’t even think.

Jensen lifts his hand, spreads his fingers. “I thought you realized.” 

“No,” Jared says, looking away, voice shaking. “I really didn’t.”

Jensen shifts his leg and Jared watches the shadows run and play across the sheets. “Jared. I gave you a choice,” he says, like that’s important. “You made the choice to do this, to be here. And if you choose _not_ to be here, or do this anymore, I’ll understand. Nothing else changes. I’ve always told you that.”

“Nothing else changes,” Jared echoes with a sharp nod of his head. “Yeah. I get it.” He takes a deep breath, doesn’t know how to quantify all the things he’s feeling right now. _Wants_ to, but he can’t, it’s too much, overwhelming. _Nothing else changes_. He knows what that means. It’s a way of saying Jensen could care less if Jared’s here or not. That Jensen can walk away. It’s fucking amazing that this never occurred to Jared earlier.

“Actually,” Jared says, pushing stiffly up off the bed. He moves to the edge and stands. “I think I’m gonna just go.”

He pulls his shirt on the second he’s off the bed, risks a quick glance over his shoulder at Jensen.

Jensen runs a thumb down the side of his jaw, and he’s not looking at Jared at all. “If that’s what you want,” he says. His voice is low, and the words sound strange, like maybe it’s hard for him to say them. But he’s not saying anything else, body completely still except that finger stroking back and forth across his chin.

 _Yeah. Must be really hard_. Jared bites his lower lip, focuses his attention on his buttons. They blur and slip sideways in his vision, and he pushes at them with his fingers, blinks hard, grits his teeth. He leaves them undone, moves for the door. Shoes, socks and pants in the living room, and the quicker he gets out, the better. Jensen’s voice halts him in the doorway.

“Jared. If you still want this, for the time we have left, it’s here.” Jensen pauses and Jared waits, tension mounting in his shoulders, stiffening muscles along his spine. “I don’t know if you expected more, but…” An even longer pause this time, and Jensen’s voice dips as he finishes, like he’s trying to be nice, gentle for Jared’s sake. “This is all it was ever supposed to be.” Jensen shakes on the last word, and Jared squeezes his eyes shut. He thinks that one final detail, that break in Jensen’s voice—pretending that he really gives a shit—is unnecessary.

“Yeah, I get that,” Jared says, biting off the words. They feel heavy, thick with poisonous venom as they roll of his tongue. But he means them, however viciously he hurls them. He gets it. He really does.

And that’s why he walks out without saying another word.

 

*

 

He spends Saturday night curled in his room, miserable until Chad comes over and drags him out to dinner. He’s quiet, morose. Chad tells him straight up that his company sucks, and Jared flips him off. On Sunday he’s so _pissed_ , he can’t stop bitching to Chad over lunch, and then down through the local carnival, stuffing cotton candy into his mouth as he goes.

“Jay, dude,” Chad says, spreading his arms as they pass the funnel cake booth, smell of cooked dough and sugar wafting warm on the air. “When I was with Sophia, she made me read this fuckin’ book.”

“You read a book?” Jared asks in wonder.

Chad smacks him on the arm. “The things a guy’ll do to keep getting laid, right?” Chad throws up his hands. “So this book, it was called, like, Joan’s Bridge or some shit. And the main character—she was a chick—they called her, “the Ice Princess”.”

“Aloof, unavailable ice queen,” Jared corrects through a mouthful of pink spun sugar. “And it’s Bridget Jones.”

“You’ve read it,” Chad says, like he’s thrilled he doesn’t have to explain it anymore. 

“No, I saw the movie—“

“Stupid fuckin’ chick book, but man, I tell you. That main girl? She reminded me of Mr. Ackles to a “t” in the beginning. Ice Princess. Pretend nothing happened, right? That’s _his_ motto. But he’s mostly like Danny, because he _reeks_ of fuckwittige. I mean, come _on_.” Chad pauses. “Except with the whole Ice Princess thing going on, too.”

“Okay. That’s a little bit skewed.” Jared pauses, swallows the over-sweetened glob in his mouth and keeps pace. “But at the end of the book—movie--”

“Nah, nah, nah.” Chad’s waving his hands through the air, almost hits a girl in a bright green tank top who has the misfortune to fire him a dirty look. Chad returns the look with an inviting grin, and the girl rolls her eyes, keeps going past. “As I was saying,” Chad says, craning his neck to watch her walk away. “The ending was bullshit. That shit never happens in real life, dude. Marcy the true love doesn’t swoop in, and Julio doesn’t go to fuckin’ jail, know what I mean?”

“Wait,” Jared says, cotton candy halfway to his mouth. “Who am I again?”

“You’re the chick,” Chad says, like it’s a duh thing. “Mr. Ackles is Danny, and Marcy doesn’t exist. Stay with me, here. And seriously, by the end? The chick probably fucks Julio ‘cause he’s more interesting and gets all messed up over him, instead. Chicks are crazy like that.”

“Okay, I think that last part is you unloading your own emotional baggage.”

“Maybe,” Chad agrees. 

“Because I don’t think dating a criminal is high on my list of things to do.”

“It’s just a metaphor, Jay.” Chad claps him on the back. “Lighten up.

They ride the rides, and Jared mopes, and Chad flirts and eats three bags of popcorn, two funnel cakes, two rolls of cotton candy and a chili dog. By the time the sun is setting they’re on the Scrambler, Jared with a stupid stuffed, purple dog tucked under his arm. The dog’s been bothering him all day, even though he’s the one who won it fair and square at the basketball hoop game. He’s finally figured out what it is about the goofy big-eyed thing that bugs him; wonders if he ever looked like that to Jensen. He puts his hand on the thing’s head, smooshes it down.

“That’s it,” Jared decides out loud. “I’m done with Jensen.”

Chad opens his mouth to reply and turns green, and the people in the cart across from them get a nasty surprise.

*

On Monday, everything is different when he walks into class. He doesn’t know how he knows; Jensen is just as calm and refined as he’s ever been, but there’s… something about the way he’s moving. Even more precise, body a little more stiff, and if Jared didn’t know better, he might think Jensen was overcompensating. But the second he lays eyes on Jensen, his resolve falters and his thoughts scatter, and he knows he can’t just walk away from this. Doesn’t know how he even thought he could.

When the bell rings, Chad gets up from his seat and waits for Jared, and Jared waves him on. Chad rolls his eyes and mouths something that looks like “Julio” before he shakes his head and walks out alone.

Jensen doesn’t ask him, and Jared doesn’t say anything, and it doesn’t get better; it just gets worse. There’s still intimacy there, but it’s tentative, strained, and the space between them is growing. The sex is still mind-blowing, but it’s different. So controlled, like it hasn’t been since their first week together. Jared feels slightly awkward when they’re together, can’t quite let go the way he wants to. Jensen keeps getting farther away, fading back into a stranger, someone completely out of Jared’s reach. In some ways, he’s colder than he ever was.

By Friday things are tense, and all Jared wants is the hall pass so he can go to the bathroom. But when he asks for it, Jensen dismisses him back to his seat without even looking up. Doesn’t even. Look. Up.

Jared's reeling, angry, spends the rest of class finishing his assignment with a singular fury that leaves his sheet of paper pressed hard with ink, slight rips around some of the letters. And yeah, assignments. After finals. Because according to Jensen, "there's never a reason to stop learning".

He's got a half a mind to fucking _leave_ when the bell rings, but he hesitates, and it costs him. Everyone's out the door and gone before he's got his pack across his back.

"Going somewhere, Mr. Padalecki?" Jensen doesn't look up from whatever he's writing.

He could. He knows Jensen wouldn't stop him—and maybe that's the worst in all of this. He drops his bag to the floor, heaves a heavy sigh and falls back into his seat. "No, sir."

Jensen nods, doesn't say anything else, pen flowing across the paper on his desk. And yes, this is supposed to be about learning control; he gets that. But there are… there are _limits_. There's self-respect.

"Not like I could, even if I wanted to," he adds, words bitter.

Jensen's pen hits the desk with a loud click, startling in the silence. Jared's mouth goes suddenly dry, and Jensen raises his eyes, looks Jared squarely in the face.

"Are you not in control of your own actions, Mr. Padalecki?"

"No," he seethes, burn of Jensen using his formal name stinging hard. "You are."

"Am I?" Question spoken as if he were unaware of this fact, cataloguing it and thinking it over. He leans back in his chair and folds his arms, focused on Jared completely now. "No one is forcing you to be here. If you no longer want this of your own free will, you're welcome to leave."

"I know," Jared bites out, hates the poison laced through his voice. "You think I don't know that? That's the worst part of it all."

Jensen nods, leans forward onto his desk and lets his fingers fall together in a latticework. "So, if that's true—if you know you have the option to leave at any time… then, who is in control here?"

Jared bites into his cheek and looks away, jaw set in a tight line. He doesn't want to hear this, doesn't want to know it.

_You know it's true._

_Goddammit!_

He struggles, pride fierce, like a dragon inside him, mind a flimsy thing against its power. 

_You're in control. You've got the choice to walk out of here, so get up and walk out. You have the power; show him._

He _could_ … he can see it. See himself getting up, saying goodbye. For just a second, it seems possible, something maybe even, that he _needs_ to do; life stretching out into a future without Jensen… and he'd… he'd… what? Would his life end? Would he die? No. He'd be okay. He'd live. Maybe not happily for a long time, maybe not ever. But his life would go on. 

The realization hits him like an explosion, sudden and perfect. He _could_. He really _could_. That choice _exists_. And maybe he even _should_ make it, but he also has the choice to _stay here_. If he wants to. He has a _choice_. And this is… this is so huge, something beyond pride and the petty need to assert himself.

_But, you also have the ability to decide, on your own terms, to indulge in a want. The difference is in understanding that you have a choice, being aware of what you're doing, rather than simply giving in to an urge blindly._

_Yeah. But how can you tell? Because… sometimes it starts as a blind urge, then you think about it, and decide to do it anyway. How do you know you're just not tricking yourself?_

The answer strikes him suddenly, and it feels like a blow to the head, brain pitching inside his skull.

_Because you know you don't **have** to do it. Because you also have the choice **not** to do it."_

He looks at Jensen, eyes wide. 

_Then, who is in control here?_

"I am," he says. "I'm in control. But I'm…" he searches for the right word, intensely aware of Jensen's eyes on him. "I'm… _allowing_ you to have control."

Jensen's brows rise over the rim of his glasses. "But how do you know that's true? That you're not tricking yourself into thinking that because you want it?" Jensen throws his own question back at him.

"Because I also have the choice _not_ to," Jared says, meets that gaze head-on. "When I came to your house, I didn't even see that I had a choice not to go. But I did, and I do." He's light-headed with the understanding. "It's… it's the weirdest thing," he says, suddenly struck by the impulse to laugh, and he does. "It's like… it's like being free."

Jensen looks at him for a long time, something Jared doesn't understand in his face; it's too many emotions and somehow not enough of any. "You're right," he says. "That's the final lesson." He rises to his feet, pulls his briefcase from under his desk and sets it on top. Moves a stack of papers into it and closes it, clasps clicking into place. He puts his hands on top of the buttery leather, looks down at it.

"It's a subtle difference, isn't it?" he asks, like he might be asking the empty room rather than Jared. "But a very important one."

After a moment, he takes a deep breath, goes on. "You don't need anything else from me, Jared."

And no. Not this. Not now. Not when Jared can maybe find a way back to what they had, even for what little time they have left. “I'm still choosing this, even though I don't have to. It’s a real choice, now,” Jared says, but Jensen doesn’t stop moving. “Didn't you hear me?" Jared asks, rising to his feet before he even knows what he's doing. "I said I still want this."

Jensen looks at him then. "Why?" he asks, like he can't possibly imagine.

 _Because I want **you** , you stupid motherfucker_, he thinks. Is there any possible way Jensen _still_ couldn't know that?

"Because I want _you_." 

Jensen goes very still for a moment. “I don’t have anything left to teach you, Jared.”

“Well, maybe,” Jared says, stepping forward, voice rising, “for _once_ , you could actually try _giving_ something instead. Do you even know how to do that? Does everything always have to be teaching or barter and trade with you? Because I think I’m worth a little more than that.”

Jensen looks away from him, fingers rubbing at the leather of his briefcase. Finally, he nods. "Fine." There's something wrong with the way he says it; brusque, too hard. But Jared forgets that, utterly and completely when Jensen speaks again.

"Come to my house tonight," he says.

He's gone before Jared can even process that.

  
  



	6. Chapter 6

Jared spends most of the evening in absolute terror.

Chad, of course, thinks it’s the best thing ever. “So… you just said, ‘give me something, motherfucker’, and he was all…” Chad makes a face and says in a squeaky, high approximation of a girl’s voice, “‘okay, Jared’?” Chad waves a hand through the air and laughs. “What a fuckin’ pussy. You know, I coulda told you, anybody that acts _that_ dom? Has serious self-image issues. Or a small dick. WAY overcompensating, know what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” Jared says, fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt. “Well. You don’t know Jensen.”

“I know enough. Unless there’s shit you’re not telling me?” Chad adds, looking at Jared quizzically. 

“Maybe a couple things,” Jared mutters. “But you know all the important stuff. About how he is—“ Jared stops. Sighs. “ _Was_ with me when we were at his place.”

“So… okay,” Chad says, and Jared can see the gears turning in Chad’s head as he walks to the window. He lifts a hand and makes a grasping motion with his fingers. “Maybe you’re like, his kryptonite.” Chad spins on him. “You know?”

Jared just looks up at him from under his brows, tugs his fingers over the bedspread. “No. I don’t. Jensen doesn’t even _have_ kryptonite, dude. He’s like… superhuman.”

“Hah,” Chad says, dismissing the idea. “Even superheroes and supervillains have a weakness. _Everybody’s_ got a weakness, Jay. And from what you told me… how different he is alone… I’d say you’re it.” Chad shrugs and lifts his hands, like that concludes it. Pulls a cigarette from the pack lying on Jared’s desk and starts to light up.

“Dude, you know my mom will freak. And I cannot handle her shit right now.”

“I’ll stand by the window. Besides, you can just call Superman in to save my ass, right?” Chad grins and snaps the lighter. 

“No,” Jared says, definitively. “Because he’s not Superman.”

“Bizarro?” Chad asks, like he’s hopeful.

Jared shakes his head. “He’s like… a God or something.”

“See, that’s where you’re goin’ all wrong with this, Jay,” Chad says, affecting wisdom as he blows smoke through the window screen and motions at Jared, cigarette trailing blue gray curls. “That’s what’s got you all screwed up. He’s _human_. I mean yeah, okay, Ice Princess thing going on, but human. Everybody is. Unless they’re a robot.” Chad pauses, tilts his head side to side and drags on his cigarette. 

“And okay,” Chad allows, exhaling, “if there was ever a candidate for being a robot, it’s Mr. Ackles. Still. Odds are against it. Unless he’s been hanging out with Spielberg. ‘Cause you know,” Chad says, turning to point at Jared, cigarette making a perfect smoke ring, “Spielberg replaced Tom Cruise with an animatronic duplicate _years_ ago. That’s why he has ‘Cruise’,” Chad makes air quotes around the name, “do all his movies these days. I mean seriously, you think anybody _real_ smiles like that? Like Jaws and shit. I think Spielberg used spare parts off the robot shark. It’s fuckin’ _scary_.”

“Chad,” Jared says evenly. “You have no idea how lucky you are that I love you, right now.”

“’Course you do,” Chad says, turns and blows smoke out the window. “Who fuckin’ wouldn’t?” he shrugs.

Jared decides not to go down the list. And it’s only by counting to ten twice that he manages it. His nerves are completely on edge, sick feeling in his belly, and he doesn’t care _what_ Chad says. Even if Jensen _did_ invite him, that doesn’t mean he’s agreeing to _anything_. Jared’s as likely to get his ass whipped as he is to get fucked. And not whipped in a good way. He has no idea why Jensen invited him, or what the fuck Jensen’s got planned—though he’s sure Jensen _does_ have something planned--he’s just sure that it’s something he’ll never expect. 

Jared surges up off the bed and bumps his shoulder into Chad’s, moves up beside him. “Hey. Give me a drag of that,” he says, grabbing for the cigarette. Chad arches his brows, tilts his head and offers it up, like it’s Jared’s funeral. Jared puts it to his lips and takes a slow drag—starts coughing immediately and braces himself against the windowsill, spitting out tiny clouds of smoke, tongue recoiling and cringing, throat burning. 

“Better?” Chad asks, snatching the cigarette expertly from Jared’s hand and clapping him on the back. “There you go. Get it all out, man.”

“Fuck you… Chad,” he manages to gasp out, hacking his way through the words.

Chad shrugs. “Don’t hate me because I’m right all the time.”

“Yeah,” Jared coughs out, rising to his feet again. “Because Jensen’s totally a robot.”

Chad grins and turns, bends his arms at the elbow and straightens his hands, moves his arms and legs with jerky motions, head turning in short, unnatural bursts. He looks like… a fucking robot, and Jared’s thrown by the sudden change, until Chad says, in perfect flat machine tones, “Can’t stop… being a top.”

And then Jared falls down, still hacking in between his laughter, because _Christ_.

“Huh?” Chad says, grinning as he lifts his hands to the air. “I’m just sayin’.”

Jared just lies there, lets the laughter fill him up for a while, and shit, he’s giggling, all that nervous energy pouring out, arms clutching his stomach until he’s howling, tears streaming from the corners of his eyes.

“You are fucking weird, Jay,” Chad says and shakes his head. “You’re lucky I love _you_ , man, is what I’m saying.”

Jared stays where he is until the laughter plays itself out, wiping at the corners of his eyes. Chad stands there and smokes until he finishes the cigarette, lifts the screen and throws it outside. When Jared can speak again, he says, quietly, apropos of nothing, “I think I’m in love with him.”

“Shit, man. You just now figuring that out? Shoulda asked me. I could’ve told you that months ago. Might as well have carved that shit in your forehead.” Chad leans down, offers his hand and helps Jared up. When he’s on his feet, Chad squeezes his hand and claps him on the shoulder.

“Go give him hell, Jay.” 

*

He stands on the porch, and it’s not like it was when he came here for the first time. It’s not even like it was when he came here _last_ time. His stomach’s still tight with nerves, and he has no idea what’s going to happen. But he does know he was invited here, and that makes tonight different. He feels... strange as he knocks on the door. Nervous, yeah, but tense, too, with an edge of adrenaline.

The door opens almost immediately.

“Come in,” Jensen says, hand resting on the doorknob, body tilting toward it as he steps back. He’s dressed in jeans and a tank top and nothing else, denim hanging low on his hips, stripe of flat belly and the dip of his belly button in between. His hair is a mess of wild waves, soft and tinted gold in the dim porch light, and he looks so good it hits Jared like a kick to the stomach, low and heavy. Jared takes a deep breath and steps inside, hesitates just beyond the sweep of the door shutting. It feels strange, being here like this. He’s not sure where to go or what to do. He’s so used to going straight to the desk.

Jensen closes the door and then moves around Jared, and Jared follows him into the living room, heart picking up speed. Everything is neat, tidy and put away, no books or papers, not even a tea cup sitting beside the chair in the center. The lights are low, dimmer than he’s ever seen them, and it strikes Jared as strange. He’s so used to finding Jensen busy in the living room, doing… _something_.

Jensen stops them halfway to the chair, turns to Jared and faces him, and Jared can’t read anything in his face. The tension that’s been between them winds even tighter as they look at each other, and not all of it is because of the distance that’s been there recently. Jared feels his stomach twist with desire as much as nerves. 

“Do you…” Jensen starts to ask. His hand moves, like maybe he’s thinking about touching Jared, but then it goes still. “Is it all right if we go to the bedroom?”

It takes a full twenty seconds or so for Jared’s brain to register that Jensen’s actually _asking_ him. Jared’s thoughts spin up quick, trying to figure out what’s going on. He’d kind of thought they’d talk first. But maybe Jensen’s got something specific planned, and the way he’s being… he seems almost as tense as Jared. Jared swallows against the dry lump in his throat and nods. 

Jensen turns, and Jared follows him down the hall. The lighting’s just as magnificent as always; perfect cut of shadows and light, accentuating everything, and Jared can clearly see the bottle of red wine on the nightstand, uncorked and three-quarters full. Two wide, low wineglasses set out beside it, thin layer of burgundy coating the bottom of one.

Jensen walks to the bottle and pours two glasses of wine, bubbles rising from the swirl of liquid. Takes one with each hand, two fingers caught under the swell, stem between, and turns, hands one to Jared. 

Jared just looks at it for a second, then lifts his eyes to Jensen’s. “Are we going to need to be drunk for this?” 

Jensen tilts his head and half-shrugs with one shoulder. “I thought it might help us relax.” 

_Us?_ It’s kind of sweet that Jensen’s acknowledging the tension between them, but it makes Jared’s stomach lurch. If Jensen’s as tense as he is…

Yeah, okay. Wine sounds like a _great_ idea. 

Jared takes the glass, tilts it up in time with Jensen, and takes a slow drink. Damn. It’s not like he’s never had wine before, but this is _rich_ , heavy bodied fruit with no aftertaste, hint of cedar and ash. It’s smooth and perfect. Faintest trace of cinnamon, and he licks his lips, chasing the taste.

Jensen drains more than half his glass, stands there for another second and then motions to the bed. “Want to sit down?”

Jared takes another quick drink, swallowing against the tension building in his muscles. He feels like he’s going to implode as he sits on the edge of the bed next to Jensen. He feels uncomfortable, and it’s so strange, but underneath, there’s that other tension, rising higher and hotter the closer they get to each other. 

Jensen finishes his glass and sets it on the night stand. Clears his throat and pushes his glasses up before he turns to Jared. His eyes are as intense as Jared’s ever seen them, and he licks his lips—a completely unconscious gesture that makes Jared’s heart kick up another notch. 

Jensen lifts his hand, fingertips just barely grazing Jared’s cheekbone, and Jared swears he can feel them tremble just a little. He leans forward, lips parting slightly, and pauses, eyes searching Jared’s like he’s asking for permission.

Jesus. Jared’s heart is somewhere around his throat as he leans in, whole body shaking as he meets Jensen’s mouth. 

They melt together, sticky with wine, sweet and slow, Jensen’s tongue tracing over Jared’s lips, pushing in between. Jared opens, mouth inviting, tongue curling around Jensen’s and sucking him in with the taste of cedar, lingering cinnamon. Jensen rests his hand against Jared’s face, tracing patterns over his cheek as the kiss deepens, tongues soft and seeking, tangling and tasting. Jared feels the bottom drop out of his stomach, his heart swell inside his chest, because God, this is _Jensen_ kissing him. The coldness is gone, distance between them eaten away by moments, and Jared lifts the hand without the wineglass, settles it on Jensen’s jaw and pulls him in. Jared sweeps his tongue up the sleek inside of Jensen’s cheek, catches behind his teeth and tongues over the sharp incisor, feels Jensen shiver as Jared trails over the roof of his mouth. Tight ridges and soft tongue and then Jared’s gone, wrapped in the slick divinity of Jensen kissing him back. Gentle bites and licks, slow drags and sharp nips over chin and lips and tongue.

Jensen slides his other hand over Jared’s face, through his hair and then down, playing with the hair at the base of his neck, twisting it between his fingers. Jensen pulls back, just a little, lips wet and hot against Jared’s. “Maybe you should put the glass down,” he suggests, voice heavy, hot. 

Jared only hesitates a second, then he pulls back, tips the glass up and drains it in several long, steady swallows. Jensen takes it from his hand, sets it on the table. His lips are stained dark with wine, swollen and slick from kissing, and Jared leans to meet him, lets his tongue slide all over the swell before he licks into the wet heat. Jensen’s hands are hot against his skin, gripping either side of his face, and he opens wide as Jared slithers inside, moans as Jared catches his tongue between teeth, scrapes light then sucks hard. He tastes dark and sweet, and Jared pulls the taste from him, Jensen groaning before Jared finally lets go, tongues rolling together. He can feel the dull heat of wine in his belly, warm and mellow, spreading all through him, mixing with the fire in his veins.

Jensen kisses out slow, both of them breathless as Jensen runs a hand over Jared’s forehead, up into his hair, fingers curling in the long strands. “I want to give you something,” he says, mouth dragging over Jared’s as he speaks. His voice is low, ragged. “But first, I need to know if you trust me.”

The words hit Jared like a shock, and he feels the last door still shut inside him break open. “You know I do,” he whispers back.

“Then trust me,” Jensen whispers back, hot breath into Jared’s mouth, slow lick inside. 

“Missed this,” Jared whispers, words swallowed by Jensen’s mouth. “Missed you,” he says and pushes in, wrapping his tongue around Jensen’s. It’s stupid, ridiculous, because they’ve fucked all week long, but it wasn’t like _this_.

“Shhh.” Jensen kisses him back, slow and steady. “I know.” Biting, licking, slow drags and sharp nips over chin and lips and tongue. Fingers raking through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and he opens wider, winds his arms around Jensen’s shoulders, tugs him in close.

Jensen’s hands glide to his shoulders, pushing him down against the bed, and he lets himself fall, can’t do anything else, laid wide open and he just _needs_ , wants. Jensen’s fingers working the buttons of his shirt, lingering kisses until it spreads over Jared’s chest. Hands against his skin, hot and perfect, smoothing over his chest, down to his belly, then Jensen’s weight, arching against him, tongues tangled and locked. 

Jensen keeps kissing him--long, slow, wet, deep—until Jared feels dizzy with it. Feels himself relax and sink into the bed like he’s part of it. Body loose and filled with want, cock hard and shoved against Jensen’s, and this is all there _is_. He gives in, lets go, and he feels Jensen’s hand slide over his arm, up to his wrist, tug off his sleeve. Finger and thumb circling, pushing Jared’s arm deeper, and then…

Cold metal, locked around his wrist, gentle and certain as the kisses they’re sharing. 

“Wait,” Jared whispers. “What…?”

Jensen’s body rolls into him like a wave, hand tracing a line down Jared’s arm, out over his nipple, circling. “Do you trust me?” he asks again, out of breath, and his eyes are hooded heat, burning Jared as they stare into him.

“Yes,” Jared nods. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he knows Jensen has never hurt him, not once. Not his body anyway, and his heart’s pretty much got a mind of its own where Jensen’s concerned. It’s not even a choice.

Jensen strips him, feeds his other wrist and both ankles to the restraints. They’re metal on the outside, soft velvet inside, binding him naked and spread-eagled to the four corners of the bed. Jensen sits up on his knees between Jared’s legs, takes a long moment, just looking at Jared’s body. Fingertips skim the insides of Jared’s thighs, sending tremors to his knees, his stomach. He’s hard as ever with anticipation, and Jensen licks one of his fingers while Jared watches, runs it up the underside of Jared’s cock. He jumps, straining into the touch, but he can barely move at all, left panting and unsatisfied when Jensen pulls his hand away.

Jensen turns, slides off the bed to his feet. Stands, looking down at Jared as he yanks his shirt over his head, then slides his fingers down and undoes the buttons on his jeans, peels out of them. 

And that’s just something Jared’s never going to get tired of seeing. “Jesus you’re fucking hot.”

Jensen turns, walks to the dresser, and _Christ_ , Jared’s heart nearly stops. His back is lean muscle, perfectly defined as the rest of him, wide shoulders and the dip of his spine and the little rising curve at the end, like art cut in light and shadow. Gorgeous. But his _ass_ \--dear _God_ \--perfect as Jared always imagined it would be, muscular round curve high and tight. It’s the most perfect ass he’s ever seen; possibly the most perfect ass known to man.

“So sexy,” Jared whispers, watching him move. He’s reaching for something on the dresser, and Jared’s heart kicks up as he sees Jensen pick up the lube and uncap it. He eyes Jared in the mirror over the dresser, like he’s making some kind of decision, and then he glances down, pours lube out into his hand. Jared can see everything in the mirror; Jensen’s body, the intent look on his face, the wet glaze coating his fingers, dripping between the webs, and Jared swallows hard, cock twitching.

Jensen shifts his feet as he sets down the lube, spreads his legs a little, and Jared’s confused for a few seconds, until—Oh my God—

It’s casual, the way Jensen does it. Reaches around his body and slides his index finger between the muscles of his ass. Fingertip playing, easing, rubbing tiny circles there.

Jared is too stunned to even breathe. Eyes wide, every nerve standing on edge as he watches. _Oh Christ_. He groans as Jensen’s finger presses in, slips inside his body, Jensen’s chest hitching with a sudden breath, body taut and trembling. Slow in and out, twisting and widening with each push, and Jared moans, bites his lower lip, cock throbbing hard against his stomach. 

“Christ,” Jared breathes, eyes locked on Jensen’s hand moving inside himself. “Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you make me?”

Jensen rocks his hips a little, makes a low sound in his throat. Gentle twist and then he pushes in a second finger, groaning and shaking, whispering ‘fuck’ under his breath. 

“Oh my fucking _God_ ,” Jared moans. “You’re trying to kill me.” It’s the single hottest thing Jared’s ever seen; Jensen fucking his own fingers with slow, rotating thrusts of his hips. Fingers glistening wet, slipping in and out, and _fucking Christ_. Jared can feel want clawing, thrashing in his gut, whole body on fire, straining against the bed. 

When Jensen pushes in a third finger, moaning, Jared almost swallows his own tongue. 

“Jesus fucking Christ. Please… please,” Jared begs, twisting against the bed. Jensen’s hips pick up speed, snapping back into his hand, fingers twisting, and Jared is just going to fucking explode, right here on the bed, dick rock hard and aching. Jensen’s breathing hard, body slowing until his hips are barely moving, and Jared whines, watching him push his fingers apart, turn them inside his body, flexing and curling, other hand slapping against the dresser and holding tight. Jared watches Jensen tease and play, shudder and hiss until Jared wonders if Jensen brought him here to torture him, because holy fucking _shit_.

Slow pull of fingers, Jensen’s whole body trembling, gasp uttered out as his fingertips slip free. He takes a second, just stands there and breathes, puts his other hand on the dresser like he’s steadying himself. Jared’s belly tightens as Jensen picks up the lube again, turns and walks to the bed. He settles down between Jared’s thighs, sitting up on his knees, lube tossed on the comforter. Jensen rips open the condom wrapper and Jared moans, hips trying to wriggle in anticipation. The fucking pre-show just about killed him, and he has no idea what the fuck got into Jensen, putting on a show like that, but he’s about to get fucked, _finally_ , and he really can’t fucking _wait_.

“Hurry. Jesus fucking--- _hurry_ ,” Jared moans.

Jensen’s hands stroke over Jared’s cock and he shudders, balls tightening, surging, brain catching up belatedly. Jensen’s putting the condom on _him_? Why is he--

“Oh my God,” Jared whispers.

Slick fist, long slow strokes up and down, squeezing under the head. Jared’s in such complete shock he almost doesn’t even notice when Jensen stops, hand locked around the base of Jared’s cock, rising up on his knees.

“You wanted me to give you something Jared, and you earned it,” Jensen whispers, ragged threads of his voice sinuous. Sweat slick and smooth skin, and God, Jensen’s spreading his legs around Jared, heat teasing the head of Jared’s cock. Rock and sway of hips, and he feels Jensen slide, slip and glide, sinking deeper, searing ring of muscle pulling at him.

_Oh my God, oh my God, oh my motherfucking **God**_

“You want to know how many people have had this… had me like this?” Jensen asks, body teasing at Jared. “Exactly none…” Jensen says, wriggling his hips, and holy fuck, Jared’s about to lose his fucking _mind_ , because fuck, fuck, fuck, holy _fuck_. “Exactly you,” Jensen whispers, and pushes.

“Jesus fuck,” Jared gasps, arcs against the bed, but there’s nowhere to go. Oh God, oh God, the way it _feels_ \--it’s fucking amazing. Slow, sweet _squeeze_ , Jensen’s body locking tight around the head of his cock, hot enough to burn, and Jesus Christ, Jesus motherfucking _Christ_ , he’s _inside_ Jensen. Jared chokes, body stiffening as Jensen keeps moving. Jensen’s chest and face are flushed, thin sheen of sweat over his freckled skin, lower lip caught between his teeth, gorgeous body sinking down, swallowing Jared’s cock inch by inch.

“Christ you’re fucking big,” Jensen moans, head thrown back, eyes shut like he’s enjoying it. Hands splayed across Jared’s belly, holding him almost possessively, driving deeper. He can feel Jensen stretching, opening to him, Jared’s cock so hard it hurts, straining, wanting more, faster. Jensen rocks his hips, one quick jerk, and Jared bites down hard on the inside of his cheek at the sound Jensen’s making, the way he looks. Mouth swollen and red from their kisses, cock hard and legs spread, back arched. It’s fucking criminal, incredible, and Jared still can’t believe this is fucking happening. 

Jensen hisses as he slides home, body resting against Jared’s and Jared jerks, cries out, high-pitched whine. “God, Jensen,” he moans, stretching, trying to arch his hips. “So fucking hot. So fucking gorgeous.”

Jensen’s still sitting there, head back, beads of sweat standing out on his forehead, breathing so hard, and Jared can _feel_ him breathing, the trembling of his body. His fingers twitch against Jared’s belly.

“Is it… okay?” Jared asks slowly, hopes and prays like hell that the answer is “yes” because he’s pretty sure he’d die if they have to stop. Actually he’s pretty fucking sure he’s gonna die either way.

Jensen’s eyes flutter open, half-lidded and heavy with heat. “You have,” Jensen says, flexing his inner muscles. Jared’s head snaps back against the bed, and Jensen gasps. “No idea,” he whispers, voice straining, shaking. And then he moves. Lifts his hips as slow as he slid on. It’s fucking excruciating it feels so good, Jared twisting inside the shackles, whimpering moans into the pillow. Jensen bucks his hips when he gets halfway, makes that fucking sound again, the one that makes Jared want to keep him right here, like this, on the threshold, shaking with too much pleasure. The veins in Jensen’s arms are standing out like cords, fingers seizing in Jared’s stomach as he circles his hips, words pushing out from his lips. “God. Fuck.”

Jensen’s sheathed in sweat now, muscular body encased in sleek shine, skin slipping, sliding against Jared’s. Jared clenches his hands into fists, bites down hard on the inside of his cheek and whimpers, watching as Jensen rises all the way up, almost pulling off of Jared. Circling hips around Jared’s cock head, and Jensen rocks his weight against his hands, pushes down and twists his hips, and Jared’s fucking gone. Jesus fucking _Christ_ , his whole body is on fire, every nerve alive, cock so hard, throbbing like it’s going to burst any second. Jensen takes his time, teasing twists and shakes, searing heat, speeding up a little with each thrust, and God, Jared _is_ going to fucking die.

“God… you feel… so fucking… good,” Jared gasps out. 

Jensen’s not just fucking him, he’s slipping, sliding, grinding all _over_ Jared, so motherfucking _tight_ , body squeezing, pulling Jared’s cock. All that bare skin, hips working, hands running over Jared’s stomach, up to his chest, blunt nails digging deep. Sting like nettles, scattering sparks, Jared’s body jerking into the touch. Jensen rolls his hips in an amazing figure eight, leaves Jared moaning, and thrusts down hard, slight smile twisting his lips. 

Jared wants, more than anything he’s ever wanted in his entire life—even more than touching Jensen last time when he bargained for “anything”—to put his hands on Jensen. Touch that skin, sink his fingers into those sinuous hips, feel those muscles move. Feel him rock and roll, shove and thrust and _fuck_. “Jesus fucking Christ, let me touch you,” Jared begs. “Please, please, please,” he begs, panting out each plea.

Jensen bites his lip, shakes his head. “No,” he says, hands riding the curve of Jared’s chest, collarbone to his throat, fingers kneading the thin skin. 

“What do I have to do?”

“Nothing you _can_ do,” Jensen says, smiles as he rocks his hips down, tongue tracing the plush curve of his own lower lip. Jared hisses in a breath at the sensation, the sight. Jensen bends, leaning to lick at Jared’s mouth instead. “You already traded touching for ‘anything’. So you…” Jensen whispers, bites the soft, yielding skin of Jared’s upper lip, “just get to lay there and…” Jensen’s hands clench against Jared’s throat and he chokes, gasps for air, breath leaving him in a rush as Jensen drives hard, deep, “take it.” Jensen curls hard fingers into his windpipe, leaves him soundless, mouth working, desperately trying to suck in air. 

Eyes wide, pleading, cock surging, twitching. _God, no, don’t want to—not yet_. Lungs hitching, stomach convulsing—he can’t fucking _breathe_ and it’s all going straight to his cock. Contractions, chest and stomach muscles pushing down into his balls, cock sheathed in tight heat, that hot fucking body all over him, fucking him, owning him, and _no, no, no_ he doesn’t want to, not yet, God _please_.

Jensen’s fingers relent, teasing back just enough to let him gasp in a breath, points of his thumbs sliding slick through sweat. Jared pulls back from the edge just before it consumes him, but Jensen’s all over him, tongue plundering his mouth, body fucking into him, serpentine twist and writhe. 

“So close, aren’t you?” Jensen murmurs, shoves down hard and twists with his hips. Jared gasps in a breath from Jensen’s mouth, feels Jensen lick the divot under his lower lip, and then those fingers close again, squeezing his throat. Sweet, sweet pressure that jolts into his belly, neck seizing, thrusting into that grip, and fuck, he’s gonna have bruises tomorrow, but he couldn’t care less. He strains, fingers clenching, toes curling, ripple coursing through him from feet to head, full body shudder. And Jensen… Jensen just grinds against him, licks deep into his mouth and sucks Jared’s lower lip between his teeth. 

“Yeah,” he whispers, word painted over Jared’s soundless mouth. “Fucking intense, isn’t it?”

Jared tries to breathe, tries to answer, chest burning, body taut, but all he can do is buck helplessly, ineffectual, tiny thrusts of his hips. Jensen chuckles, low and dirty into Jared’s mouth, pushes with his hips and sinks his thumbs in tighter. Jared’s whole body contracts and Jensen surges down, pulls up over his cock, sucks Jared’s tongue into his mouth. So good, so good, God, so fucking close—please no.

When Jensen lets go this time, Jared can’t even remember the English language, much less speak. All he can do is breathe, work his fingers into fists and stare up into those burning eyes, praying Jensen understands him.

Slow squeeze, thrust and slide, fingers sunk deep. Pulse and thrust, jerking and convulsing. The world is going dark, and God, Jensen fucking him with a fast, steady rhythm, body driving, sinking. Lips, kissing him slow, fingers winding up into his hair and pulling him in. Bite of teeth, and then sweet air breathed into him, filling his lungs.

“God, so good,” Jensen whispers. “So good, letting me fuck you like this. Take you like this.”

Jensen’s lips are parted in a lazy, wicked grin, eyes dark and glazed. And then, Jensen curls his hips under his body. Jared can feel Jensen’s stomach muscles contract, crunch, and the world explodes behind his eyes, velvet crush of Jensen’s body, bearing down like a vice, and it’s too fucking much. Jensen’s licking the sounds out of Jared’s mouth, humming into him, eyes devouring Jared’s face. 

“Come on, do it,” Jensen growls, like he’s hungry for it. “Wanna watch you come with your cock buried inside me.” Swirl of tongue across Jared’s mouth, slick trail gliding out over his jaw. “Wanna _feel_ it,” he whispers, teeth catching Jared’s ear, and Jared shudders, shivers, feels Jensen tense, clench and bear down.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” Jared hisses, whole body seizing. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Yeah, like that,” Jensen breathes, hot, urgent breath in Jared’s ear, drawing spirals down Jared’s throat with his tongue, teeth nipping, pinching. 

“No,” Jared gasps out, and God it’s really fucking hard to breathe, or think, or do anything but feel Jensen all over him. “Wanna watch you fuck me. Watch you enjoy it.”

He bites down hard, moans against the feel of Jensen grinding into him, hips moving in a slow circle on each down thrust, like he’s fucking dancing. Jesus Christ it’s fucking hot, Jensen, biting against his lower lip, rolling his hips into Jared again, and again, rocks slow side to side, stomach muscles rippling, covered in the shine of sweat, and fuck, Jared’s gonna fucking _die_ from the hot. Jensen, doing this, giving this. _Loving_ this.

“So fucking hot. So beautiful,” Jared gasps. “Can’t believe… you gave this to me.”

Jensen stops moving, and Jared groans, shoves with his body, but there’s no motion there to give. Hands flowing over his chest, feathering out over his shoulders. Eyes, raw, open, willing, _seeing_ Jared as he leans in, kisses Jared gently. Fingers pressed into his collarbone, and Jensen pulls back just enough for Jared to watch his face. And Jared can see… everything. The tightening of Jensen’s face when he drives down, how good it feels, hips angled, and Jared can feel that sweet spot, sliding over him, see Jensen’s eyes flutter shut every time. That low burning green gaze, eating Jared alive the way he always wants it to, and he stares right back. 

“You never,” Jensen gasps, pushing onto him. “Never… stop surprising me.”

“Never want to,” Jared says, and kisses him slow, deep. 

He can feel the moment Jensen grabs his own cock, shudders down against Jared’s body and jerks. Jensen falls into Jared with a sudden smash of teeth and tongue, straining as he whispers out, “Only one. Only one I’ve ever—“

Jared _really_ wants him to finish that sentence, but _fuck_. Jensen’s body—gasp, contraction—and holy fuck, Jensen’s coming, fist stripping his cock, hot spill all over Jared’s belly, body squeezing so tight all around him, whispering senseless words into Jared’s mouth. Jared kisses him, bites hard against Jensen’s tongue and lets go, tries to fill his lungs with air. He can’t. Bodies locked together, pulse and shudder and fuck yes, this. This, always, he thinks, shoves his head into Jensen’s and whispers it out loud, body spasming.

He comes into the welcoming shudder of Jensen’s body, cock squeezed tight, mouth driving up into his, silencing the words that linger. Sucks Jensen in deep and twists his tongue, takes every advantage as Jensen pulses, coming all over his stomach. 

“Yeah,” Jared grates. “Just like… fucking _that_.”

“God… Jared.” Hands tugging hard through his hair, pulling Jared back to his mouth. Jared opens wide, drinks in the taste, lets Jensen suck him in and play with his tongue. Both of them biting, shuddering, needing. Wild kisses, shivering thrusts, pulsing so hard, until they’re both weak, drained and limp, sweat and skin, mouths and hands, all tangled together.

Jared pulls from the sweet heat of Jensen’s mouth, takes a long, slow breath.

“Jensen… I love you.”

Jensen stops moving. Jensen stops breathing. Pulls back and looks at Jared, his eyes, so wide, clear and deep green. He looks almost fragile, frozen, face naked with surprise. And Jared’s _not_ sorry he said it, he’s _not_. Something hot and fierce works its way up through him, and he says it again, slow and steady, and so very fucking _sure_.

“Jared…” the word is a breath, pushed out raw and ragged. Jensen’s fingers cup his face, trembling strokes down the skin of his cheeks. Jensen shakes his head slowly, and Jared can see something in his eyes crumble, break. Jensen takes a sharp indrawn breath, sound hitching in his chest. Innocence, so pure it almost hurts Jared to see it, pain etched into the lines of his face. 

He runs a shaking finger over Jared’s mouth, traces the line between. “God. I thought…” he whispers, eyes wide and helpless. “I thought I could do this, and not--” The word catches hard, and Jared can see it lock, Jensen’s throat flexing. Sweat shining on his face, lips moving, working, no sound coming out. His eyes flutter shut, squeeze tight, and then he closes the space between them, kisses Jared. 

It’s tender, sweet, utterly unlike any kiss they’ve ever shared. Warm, Jensen catching Jared’s lower lip between his, fastening there and holding, fingertips gentle against his cheek, tremor of them working under Jared’s skin. Weight of Jensen sinking into him, his body still holding Jared inside, and Jared’s never felt him tremble like this, heart hammering, crazy, as out of control as Jared’s. Jared purses his lips, kisses back with his eyes shut tight, trying hard to keep the knot in his throat from pushing out the tears behind his eyes. 

Jensen draws back and sits up, suddenly, rubs a shaking hand across his face, covers his eyes with it. 

“I don’t need you to say it back,” Jared whispers. “I just wanted you to know.” He can see Jensen’s brows squeeze together, hear and feel him breathe out hard. And then he puts his hands on Jared’s belly, pushes up from him. Jared gasps as the pressure around him tugs, suddenly drawing free, hears Jensen hiss in a breath. Jared’s cock falls against his belly with a wet sound. 

“Don’t,” Jared breathes, but Jensen’s already off the bed, rising to his feet. Jared’s heart is beating frantic now, eyes and face hot. Jensen’s just standing there, back turned, naked and so beautiful it hurts. He’s got both hands on his face, perfectly still except for his shaky breathing, and Jared twists his head, tries to see more of him. Wants more than anything to have the restraints off of him, go to Jensen and wrap his arms around him.

“Let me up,” he pleads. Jensen’s back flexes with a deep breath, and he pulls his hands from his face, lets them fall to his sides. He pulls on pajama pants in one quick, hard tug, moves to the night table and draws out a key between his fingers, unlocks Jared’s left wrist. The second it falls open, Jared reaches for him, but Jensen’s already moving to the foot of the bed, unlocking Jared’s left ankle, and Jared still can’t see his face. Head down as he unlocks the right ankle, bent too low for Jared to see his eyes, and it’s not until Jensen’s unlocking his other wrist that he can crane his neck to look.

Jensen’s lips are pressed together in a tight line, brows creased like he’s deep in thought, or maybe… unhappy? His eyes are shuttered again, a hard edge to them, deliberately locked on the key turning. When Jared’s free he sits up instantly, reaches out, but Jensen’s hands slide away, tossing the key on the other night stand as he steps back.

Jared moves to the edge of the bed, and the room is starting to blur around the edges. He blinks hard, sinks his teeth into his lower lip and wills himself not to cry. He doesn’t know what the fuck is going on, but that doesn’t mean—

“I’m sorry,” Jensen says. His voice is level now, even, and when Jared looks up to meet his eyes, there’s no trace of what he saw a few minutes ago. Jensen’s face is taut, drawn. “I shouldn’t have done this. I made a mistake.”

“What?” Jared feels the word fall breathless from numb lips.

“If I’d known that you…” One of Jensen’s hands makes a slight motion. “Felt this way, I wouldn’t have done this at all.”

Jared can’t breathe. Can’t feel anything, shock spreading out from his heart and swallowing everything else. But the way Jensen touched him… _looked_ at him.

“I wanted to give you something,” Jensen goes on. Lifts a hand and runs it through his hair, strands still wet with sweat, clinging to his fingers as he sighs. “To have one last time together.”

“Last?” Jared asks, hardly able to force out the word. He’s blinking hard now, and he can feel wetness spilling down his cheeks. 

Jensen bites his lower lip and reaches out, runs a thumb under Jared’s eye before he pulls away. “I’m sorry,” he says again, and his voice is softer now. Jared can’t think though, can’t process it. All he can hear is goodbye. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” Jensen says. “I’ve… never been any good at any of it.”

Something bursts open inside Jared, hot and furious, singing in his veins with a high hum that has him on his feet before he knows he means to do it. “What?” he asks, voice harsh and deep. “You don’t know how to care about someone?”

Jensen shakes his head, slow, holds Jared’s eyes. “Not like you do.”

“Well, that’s just fucking convenient, isn’t it?” Jared asks, throwing an arm through the air. God, he feels shattered inside, jagged, ripped apart, broken pieces all grinding together. “Is _this_ all you know how to do, Jensen? Play with people until they actually fucking _care_ about you and then ditch out?”

Jensen shakes his head again. “I’ve never done anything like this with anyone. Subs, dating, they’re separate—always keep them separate, that’s the rule. Even the people I’ve dated, no matter how many times I fucked them, when I told them it was time to leave, they went, and they knew better than to ask for anything else. Sometimes it went on like that for a while before they decided I was a cold hearted asshole and left for good. Do you know,” he asks, slow, like even he’s surprised, “how many of my ‘subs’ I’ve ever had sex with, Jared? Just you. I never took anyone’s virginity before. And I never… gave myself like that to anyone before.”

Jared’s still furious, but the words are catching up, and he’s _trying_ to make sense of them, _trying_.

“So,” Jensen says, still calm. “If you wanted to be special, you are. But I can’t give you what you really want.”

“Yeah.” Jared sneers, and it’s all too confusing, too much. “I’m so fucking special that you can’t even TRY?” The words are hurled like fists. Jared feels something give way inside his chest as they leave him, a sharp crack like breaking. 

“Jared,” Jensen says quietly, takes a step forward. “Believe me. All I would do is hurt you.”

“Too fucking late,” Jared spits and laughs, bitter. 

“I never meant to,” Jensen says.

“Yeah, I know. You’re so fucking _sorry_ ,” Jared yells, and Jensen flinches. “God,” he seethes, hands clenching into fists. “I am such a fucking idiot. You’re right. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine, for ever believing in you.” He’s in motion, tearing around the bed and picking up his clothes. He yanks the condom off, still slick and warm, slices into his jaw with his teeth as he ties it into a knot, tosses it to the trash can by the bathroom door.

“Jared…” Jensen’s trying. He’s really _trying_. He doesn’t fucking get it, and maybe he never could, but he’s trying to be _nice_ , let Jared down easy, and that’s the _worst_. The worst of it all.

“No,” Jared spits, tugging on his pants. “Shut up. You don’t… get to try and make me feel better.” He tugs on his shirt, leaves the buttons undone, and wow, this is getting familiar, he thinks, no hint of laughter. “You think…” he asks, shoving his feet into his shoes, pulling the heels up, “that you can do _that_ , give me _that_ , and think I’m going to be able to walk _away_. And be _happy_?”

He spins on Jensen, hands clenching into fists. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jensen curls his lower lip under his teeth, closes his eyes. “Where do you want me to start?” he asks, like it should be funny, but it’s not. It’s not, and they both know it.

“You don’t know _how_ to start.” Jared hurls the words, and they’re hot, angry, _stupid_ , but they’re how he feels. He’s got all his clothes on, and he’s so fucking _out_ of here. 

“Jared—“

“Fuck you, Jensen,” he says, throwing up one of his hands. “Just fuck off. You’re nothing but bullshit.” Jared sucks in a heavy breath, bites hard into his jaw and blinks back tears.

Jensen is utterly still, completely frozen, and God he’s got to leave here, get the fuck out.

He walks to the door and slams it behind him. Doesn’t look back even once. And he’s proud of that for a few seconds, until it all hits him.

He makes it two blocks before he falls to his knees, calls Chad on his cell phone. He doesn’t know what he says, but it’s enough to get Chad to borrow his mom’s car and pick Jared up. Chad drives him home wordlessly, puts his arm under Jared’s shoulder and half-carries him to his room before he puts Jared to bed.

*

Jared groans when he opens his eyes to daylight, the night before flashing back into reality, feels it hit him all over again like a mack truck. He pulls the covers up over his head and sinks deeper into the pillow, hopes maybe the world will just go away.

“No, no, _no_.” Chad’s voice is distinct, unmistakable. Completely unignorable. Covers yanked from his face and he groans again, puts his hands over his eyes. “You are getting up, and we are getting our tuxes, and you are _going_ to the fuckin’ prom tonight, Jay. I don’t give a fuck if there’s ten Mr. Ackles’s there tonight. It’s your _prom_ , and you don’t get do-overs for that.” Chad’s tearing the covers off the bed now, bundling them up around his arms, tossing them to the corner.

“Besides, you’re my fuckin’ _date_ , and I’m not getting stood up by a goddamned _guy_. Not even you, Jay.” Chad walks to the windows one by one and opens all the blinds, and Jared knows he’s got to get up, and God help him, he’s _got_ to go to fucking prom. He can’t miss out on this. It’s a once in a lifetime thing.

His head feels heavy as lead, eyes puffy, insides hollow and achy. But he pushes up off the bed. 

No. He can’t do it. He absolutely _cannot_ do it.

It takes most of the day with Chad and Tom supporting him to get him to the point where he finally decides he can go. He can do it. He can even have fun. Jensen’s not in control of him; Jared’s in control of himself, and he gets to decide, right? Besides… why should he let Jensen’s fucking issues ruin something this big?

It’s about the time he hits the angry phase that he makes up his mind, and after that, he’s so determined that he doesn’t give it another thought.

*

The doorbell at Jared’s house rings at exactly 6 p.m.

Chad comes to the door in his tuxedo, and Jared just has to stop for a second. Bright blond hair spiked up sharp, white carnation on his breast, and he’s so beautiful that Jared can’t help but laugh. It’s all so… wrong—and perfect as the first thing that comes out of his mouth.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Save the fuckin’ applause. It’s just a costume.” Chad shoves his hands in his pockets and arches his brows. “I didn’t bring you a corsage, either, motherfucker. Lucky I came to the fuckin’ door to get your ass.”

Jared laughs even harder at that, ‘cause it’s just so _Chad_ , and Chad grabs him by the arm, yanks him out the door.

“Don’t worry, Mrs. Padelecki,” Chad yells waving over his shoulder. “I still like the girls.”

“Considering she’s not even home? I’m thinking she’s not worried,” Jared laughs as Chad pulls him down the driveway to the limo.

“Sandy’s been teasing me all night about finally comin’ out,” Chad mutters as the chauffer opens the limo door. Jared slides in, and everyone’s already there. They’re gorgeous. Sandy’s perfect in her magenta satin and chiffon, Meg in her sleek black evening gown, both their dates as cute as they are. Tom’s photography worthy in his tux, and his date’s not a distant second. They have dinner first, and the drive to school from there is almost too short, shouted conversations over the too-loud CD’s Chad keeps shoving in. It’s crazy and chaotic and he’s enjoying himself. Jared doesn’t want to leave the car.

Not that it has anything to do with what’s probably waiting for him inside.

The driver lets them out, and they walk to the the school in a group. Chad steps up first, grabs the handles of both doors in his hands and yanks them open.

“All right,” he says, grinning. “Let’s fuckin’ do this.”

The sound of Abba hits Jared the second Chad opens the doors, pouring out in a bittersweet disco groove. 

_“You are the dancing queen, young and sweet, only seventeen”_

It hits Jared just right. It’s the perfect song for strutting into the room, proud and rhythmic, like liquid in his hips, and they all move in together, spread out, everyone arm in arm.

There’s a moment where they all pause and look at each other, like they’re realizing this is _it_. The end of life as they know it. Sandy squeezes his hand, and Meg grins, Tom’s hand on his shoulder and Chad right there beside him. Just a moment… and then everyone groups into couples, spreading out across the room.

There are already people on the dance floor, covered in swirling colored lights, back lit by gold. It's a movie star theme this year. Foil stars suspended from the ceiling, spinning on invisible threads, silver, gold and black. Old fashioned movie cameras surround the dance floor, complete with reels of tape. Over by the double doors that lead outside, there's an antique Rolls-Royce, gleaming black and chrome, sparkling with rainbow colors as the lights spin across it. There's a pretty girl with a feather boa wound around her neck standing in front of the car, hand on her date's arm as the photographer snaps a picture. Jared blinks at the flash, instinctively looking away—and there, standing next to the table with confetti stars scattered all around the punch fountain, is Jensen.

He's dressed in an impeccable tuxedo that looks like it was tailored to fit him. He's cut in perfect lines of soft-looking black wool with satin lapels, white vest buttoned over the shirt, white bow tie around his neck, glasses perched on his nose. Spiked hair and smooth jaw, and he’s smiling, wide and bright at the other teacher talking to him. He looks elegant, fucking fantastic, like he just stepped out of the pages of GQ. The sight of him hits Jared like a blow, forces all the air out of his lungs.

“Do you see…?” Jared asks, out of breath.

“Yeah, whatever,” Chad says with a glance at Jensen, scratching at his neck with one finger. “He’s not as pretty as me.”

It’s maybe the only thing that could make Jared laugh at this point. It feels good, like a breakthrough. A little bit of joy over the ache, enough that he can look away, remember that he’s supposed to be angry.

“Food,” Chad says, elbowing him, and they both head for the nearby table. 

“Well you’d have to be the prettiest to come to prom with _me_ ,” Jared grins, grabs some pretzel sticks out of the bowl. There are probably better snacks on the table closer to Jensen, but Jared really can’t handle getting that close, so this’ll do.

“Yeah, ‘cause you had so many other options for a date,” Chad snorts.

“You know you want me.”

“Oh, don’t even start with that fuckin’ shit.” Chad throws up his hands.

Jared looks at Chad sideways as “I Can’t Fight This Feeling Anymore” starts playing at ear-splitting volume. “See? Even the DJ knows, Chad. Give it up, dude.”

“You’ve _got_ to be kidding me. This is so lame,” Chad mutters. “Tell me again why I thought this was a good idea?”

“I don’t know,” Jared shrugs. “You’re the one that made _me_ come here.”

“Yeah, well nobody told me fuckin’ REO Speedwagon was on the playlist.”

“I don’t know what’s more disturbing; the fact that you know who sings this song, or the fact that they’re playing it,” Jared says, pushing a few pretzel sticks into his mouth. 

“Fuck you, Jay,” Chad says succinctly, and throws a pretzel stick at him. Jared opens his mouth and maneuvers just in time to catch it on the edge of his lip, flips it into his mouth.

“Fuckin’ show off,” Chad mutters.

“Don’t be mad ‘cause it turns you on,” Jared says, winking.

“When we’re both eating Italian ice in hell, baby,” Chad shoots back, winking in turn.

Jared feels good. More like himself than he has in… well, weeks, at least. The music’s booming, thrumming through the room—even if it is mullet rock, it sounds damned good--and everything and everyone is pretty, and everyone’s having a good time, and it’s… it’s the last time he’s ever going to get to do this.

“Be back,” Chad says, elbowing him. “Gotta drain the weasel.”

Jared has a few more pretzels, which is maybe a mistake, because now he really wants something to drink, and no way he’s going near that table. He brushes off his hands and wanders through the crowd. About a dozen people stop him; he talks sports with Barry Whitmore and a couple of the other guys for a while, gets hit on by a couple of well-meaning girls and one or two guys, explains the specific finesse of basketball to an enthralled crowd, and gets trapped by Stacy Tyler who tells him every gross detail of her recent nose job. He runs the second some poor, unwitting soul has the misfortune to ask Stacy a question about it. He congratulates John and Brianna on their engagement, shaking and kissing their hands as he moves on through the crowd. 

There’s a lull, a span of people he either doesn’t know or who aren’t paying attention as he edges along the dance floor. He’s not paying a lot of attention himself as the music slows down, only peripherally aware of people pairing off on the dance floor. And then the singer kicks in.

_“I've had enough of danger  
And people on the streets”_

Oh, God. George fucking Michael. It’s like a punch to the gut, reality slamming into him with sharp edges, cutting just under his skin. The song stops him dead in his tracks, in a gap between two couples moving to the dance floor. He really… he really could have gotten through this whole night—the rest of his _life_ , actually, thank you very much—without hearing George Michael. Ever again.

He can’t help it; turns, scans the edges of the room for Jensen. He's not by the refreshments table anymore, and Jared's eyes track back across the floor—

Jensen is dancing. _Jensen… is… dancing?_. It's a slow-dance, but he's graceful, smooth, practiced and polished. Effortless. One arm wrapped around Mrs. Racini's waist, the other holding her hand up and out. They make a beautiful picture; Jensen is perfect in his tux, gorgeous and poised, Mrs. Racini is lovely, dark-haired and thin, skirt of her yellow dress spinning out to catch the multi-colored lights swirling overhead. They're smiling, and talking to each other, and it's completely platonic, a professional dance between two teachers, but Jared can't tear his eyes away. Her tiny hand on the small of Jensen's back, fingers clasped through his, Jensen's arm, so natural around her, fingers resting comfortably on her waist. They twirl past him, slow beneath the rainbow light, and for one crazy second, Jared wants to _be_ her, so bad it hurts.

_“Now I think it's time  
That you let me know  
So if you love me  
Say you love me  
But if you don't just let me go...”_

He feels his chest tighten and swell as they spin, green glimmer of light catching in Jensen's eyes.

_“'Cause teacher  
There are things that I don't want to learn  
And the last one I had  
Made me cry”_

For just a second, that perfect smile on Jensen's lips stumbles. Jared’s whole body freezes, breathless as Jensen's eyes search the crowd, meet Jared’s over Mrs. Racini's shoulder. 

_“So I don't want to learn to  
Hold you, touch you  
Think that you're mine”_

Oh _God_. Jensen’s expression is raw and wistful, so wide open that Jared can't breathe. 

_“Because it ain't no joy  
For an uptown boy  
Whose teacher has told him goodbye  
goodbye, goodbye”_

The words are like a knife in Jared’s heart, and Jensen’s eyes flutter shut. 

_“When you were just a stranger  
And I was at your feet  
I didn't feel the danger  
Now I feel the heat”_

Jared’s eyes are blurry, filled with rising tears, and he kind of wants to kill the motherfucker who decided to play this song. Jensen’s eyes open, and there’s something more final in them now, something like an apology.

_“So when you say that you need me  
That you'll never leave me  
I know you're wrong, you're not that strong  
Let me go”_

Jensen blinks and looks away. His charming smile doesn’t regain its place, but those feet move, confident and sure, turning away from Jared. Jensen doesn’t look his way again, and Jared stands there, riveted, listening as the song finishes. And then Jensen’s bending to kiss Mrs. Racini’s knuckles, polite and so pristine. Those lips, the way they touched Jared, kissed him, everywhere. 

“Jay.” Chad bumps him hard, startles him. “You breathing, man? You look like fuckin’ Medusa zapped your ass.”

Jared breathes hard and clears his throat. “I… uh.” He clears his throat again, rubs at his face, and blinks back tears. Jensen’s walking from the dance floor without a backward glance, but Jared can see him rubbing at his jaw, fingers pushing hard into the skin. 

“Jay?”

He summons all the strength he’s got left, turns and nods numbly at Chad. “Where’d you go?”

Chad rolls his eyes. “Sandy’s date turned out to be a total chump. He’s been hitting on Sarah Ferguson and Amy Anders and every other dateless hot chick in the room all fuckin’ night since Sandy wouldn’t let him feel her up. I was gonna kick his fuckin’ ass for disrespecting like that, but she made me dance with her instead.” Chad shrugs, looks at him a little harder. “What about you man? You need me to kick his ass?” He nods his head in Jensen’s general direction.

“No,” Jared shakes his head. 

“ _You_ need me to dance with you?” Chad asks.

Jared manages a laugh this time, shakes his head again, shakes off the feeling. It’s prom, dammit. He can do this. 

“Jared!” Sandy’s pushing through the crowd, her little face all lit up, smiling. “Hey, Jared,” she says, slightly out of breath as she stops in front of him. It’s then that Jared notices the unfortunate soul she’s dragging by the arm behind her. “Look who’s here,” she says.

“Hey, Jared.” It’s Steve. Steve didn’t-stick-around-long-enough-to-earn-a-nickname-Steve. Pretty Steve, with his soft eyes and gentle face and his too-long hair always falling in his eyes. 

“Steve came alone, too,” Sandy says. “You believe that? Good looking guy like this, good looking guy like you, all alone here, together?” She’s grinning ear to ear and Jared’s trying hard to smile back. “And I figured, since I’m gonna be stealing Chad all night, you might need some company.”

“Uh huh,” Jared says, thoughtfully, eyeing Chad. Chad’s carefully looking everywhere but at Jared. “Um, Sandy, before you run off with Chad, could you give us a minute?” he asks, voice sugary sweet.

Chad looks like he wants to run, so Jared turns quickly and grabs Chad’s arm, yanks him off to the side, whispering vehemently into his ear. “What did you tell her?”

“I, um… mighta mentioned your heart being broken,” Chad says, sheepish. “But I didn’t say by _who_. Look man, it’s not it’s a secret you’re all fucked up over something. I mean, look at you.”

Jared glares and Chad says, quickly, “Steve was her idea.”

“Thanks,” Jared hisses, and Chad shrugs, rueful.

“Hey, look, I can just go,” Steve is saying, hands twisting in his pockets as Jared turns, and Jared’s struck by a stab of sympathy for Steve. He really _is_ a nice guy.

“Nah, man, it’s cool,” Jared says. “Might as well keep each other company since Chad’s abandoning me for greener pastures.”

Sandy pushes up on her tip toes and hugs Jared. “Have fun, sweetie,” she says. She’s so cute in her sparkly dress, tiny body and warm eyes. Jared can’t possibly be angry at her. She’s just trying to help.

She grins, and Chad lifts his hands, gives Jared an apologetic look as he’s dragged off through the crowd.

“So how’ve you been?” Jared asks.

They talk for a while, standing at the edge of the dance floor, and Jared remembers why he liked Steve in the first place. Quiet and unassuming, a little bit shy, the way his mouth curls when he smiles. The way his eyes light up when he talks about acting. It’s not long before Jared finds himself relaxing and actually having a decent time.

“Hey, you wanna dance?” Steve asks, shy and hopeful. 

Jared starts to shake his head and Steve goes on.

“I just thought… we’re having a good time, and it _is_ prom and… we probably should get in _one_ dance.”

One dance. Where’s the harm? Besides, Steve makes a good point.

“Sure,” Jared says, leads the way onto the dance floor. It’s a faster song, so there’s no call for holding, and Jared thinks he can work with that. Steve’s actually a decent dancer, and they’re both total hams. Jared twirls him out dramatically, and Steve rolls with it, both of them laughing, until Jared’s actually having fun. He sweeps Steve into a completely melodramatic dip at the end of the song, and a couple people around them laugh and clap. Jared’s still laughing, sweating a little bit as they move into the next song.

“Hey, look at that,” Steve says, grinning as he leans in. 

Jared looks in the direction Steve’s pointing… and his jaw hits his chest. Chad and Sandy are dancing like they can’t hear the music’s fast beat, like they’re the only two people on the dance floor, arms wrapped around each other and swaying slow, side to side. That, alone, would be enough, but they’re _kissing_ , mouths locked together, eyes closed. And they… they look like they’re enjoying it.

“Holy shit,” Jared gasps out, laughing.

“About time,” Steve says. “The way they always fight. Like two kids on a playground.”

“I always figured they’d end up killing each other.”

“That’s true love for you.” Steve shakes his head and they both laugh.

They dance for another song or two, and then the music slows down just a bit. They both adjust, and Jared’s sweating full on now, laughing and having a good time. Then, the lyrics kick in.

_“I was young but I wasn't naïve  
I watched helpless as he turned around to leave”_

Oh, _God_. And just like that, everything comes crashing down. For an hour or so, he’d almost managed to forget, but there it is, like it never left at all. Steve's tugging at him, pulling him into a slow rhythm that doesn't quite match the tempo, and Jared doesn't have the mind to resist. The lights dim, glimmering gold, and the disco ball spins out patterns of light, every color of the rainbow scattering over the room, painting trails over Steve's shoulder, Jared's face.

_"After all this time  
I never thought we'd be here  
Never thought we'd be here  
When my love for you was blind"_

The lights blur, green and red and blue all blending together, dance floor fuzzy, out of focus.

_“But I couldn't make you see it  
Couldn't make you see it” _

He can't breathe. Why can't he breathe? He shouldn't have come, shouldn't have stayed.

_"That I loved you more than you'll ever know  
A part of me died when I let you go"_

His hands clench in the back of Steve's tuxedo jacket, stiff material unfamiliar against his fingers. It's not right. None of it's right. Jensen's tuxedo would be smooth, silk under his fingertips. Body warm and wanted against his. He runs his hands over Steve’s back, tries to imagine.

_"I would fall asleep  
Only in hopes of dreaming  
That everything would be like it was before"_

The hands on him are wrong, the way they touch, caress. Awkward slide and press, never the right places, never sure and strong.

_"But nights like this it seems are slowly fleeting  
They disappear as reality is crashing to the floor"_

He bites against the inside of his cheek, looks up. And there is Jensen, across the crowded dance floor, eyes locked on Jared, watching him. He's been watching him, who knows for how long. But the second their eyes meet, Jensen looks down, away, like he'd never been looking at all. Steve's pulling at Jared, hands on his hips, mouth pressed against his neck, whispering into his ear.

"Missed you."

_Missed this. Missed you._

Jensen's not looking, and Jared's turning, losing sight of him. Anger surges, hard and bright, enveloping him. 

_"But I couldn't make you see it  
Couldn't make you see it"_

_Fuck_ Jensen, anyway.

_"That I loved you more than you'll ever know"_

He lets his face slide, cheek to cheek against Steve. Runs his hands down Steve's spine, to the small of his back and pulls him in. Lets his hips rock and slide, the way he never has with anyone else except Jensen. Feels Steve gasp and push in, the angle off, but it doesn't matter. He's here, and he's doing _this_ , because if Jensen doesn't fucking want him, then he's going to enjoy someone who _does_.

_"After all this time  
Would you ever wanna leave it  
Maybe you could not believe it  
That my love for you was blind"_

Mouth over Steve's pulse, feels it quicken, rolls his hips, and yeah. He remembers this. What it feels like to be the one in control. The one who knows what to do. The one who's… who's…

Who's not in love.

"Mr. Padalecki." Strong tap on his shoulder, and he turns—

Jensen's right _there_. He's completely calm; composed, in-control Jensen who wouldn't sound excited even if aliens were invading—except for his eyes. They're empty; icy, cold as he looks directly at Jared.

"That kind of dancing will not be tolerated on these premises," Jensen says, stiff and formal.

The music warbles and the lights spin, and Jared lets go of Steve, reeling and utterly speechless. Because… because… God, was Jared just really _doing_ that? And HOW? How can Jensen just stand there and look at Jared like he means _nothing_ , speak to him like he's any other person? And how fucking _dare_ Jensen, anyway? Jared was just trying to move on, enjoy himself, forget about Jensen. _This_ is the fucking thanks he gets?

Jensen turns, melting into the crowd of still dancing bodies, and Jared can't find his voice, can't find the strength to say a fucking word as he watches him walk away.

 _“A part of me died when I let you go.”_

Motherfucker. Fucking _asshole_.

"Fuck _this_ ," Jared mutters, pushing up the sleeves on his jacket, starting after Jensen.

"Whoa! Jared." Steve's hands on him, pulling him back. "Dude, it's not worth a fight. He's a teacher." Steve's turning him around, and he wants to yank away, but fuck, he can't make a scene. He can't. He can't, he can't, he _can't_. It would only fuck Jensen over in the end—and fuck. Why does he even _care_?

"There's only a week left of school. Besides," Steve says, smile spreading out slow over his face as he smoothes up against Jared with his body. "We were getting pretty freaky."

Jared focuses on breathing, just tries to breathe. God. Why did he even come here? This was all such a huge mistake, and he should have known better. Should have done better. All he wants to do is follow after Jensen, and instead, he's got to hurt somebody, too.

"Steve," Jared says, raising his hands. "I'm… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have…I… I made a mistake."

Steve stares at him, soft brown eyes going wide. "What?"

"I made a mistake," Jared says again, flinches against the words. Who the fuck is he, anyway? Jensen? Steve deserves better than this; better than what Jensen ever gave _him_. 

He puts his hands on Steve’s shoulders, looks him in the eye. “Look, Steve. You’re a sweet guy. You were always way better to me than you should have been, and I was a complete asshole to you. I know that, now. And if things were different, I’d be lucky to have you.” Jared stops, bites his lip. Dammit. “But I’m… I’m in love with someone else. And we just split. I spent all night feeling sorry for myself, and then you came along, being so sweet and wanting me, and… this is total rebound, and it’s not fair to you. And I shouldn’t have done it. I’m sorry.” The words tumble out in a rush, leaving an awkward silence between them.

Steve just stares at him for a few seconds, and then he laughs. Jared’s so startled that he lets go, takes a step back, and Steve keeps laughing, until he’s wiping tears from his eyes. 

“What?”

“It just figures,” Steve says, hitches in a breath. “You _finally_ start talking about your feelings, and it’s because you’re in love with somebody else. My luck.” 

“Steve, I’m—“

“No. Thanks for telling me the truth, at least.” Steve pauses, shakes his head. “You’ve changed. It’s a shame things aren’t different.” He trails off, rises up, kisses Jared’s cheek. “I had a good time. You ever change your mind, you know where I am.”

Jared nods dumbly, and then Steve slips away, disappearing into the crowd.

Jensen. Jared turns, scanning the room—there, walking through the double doors. He’s _leaving_? Oh, fuck no. Jared pushes his way through the dance floor, wiggles through the people lined along the walls and pushes the door open, steps into the hallway. 

Jensen’s rounding the corner, and Jared speeds up, running after him. “Jensen.”

Jensen stops dead as Jared rounds the corner, too. He cuts Jared a slow look over his shoulder, and then he keeps walking, changing direction to cut down a side hall--the one that leads to his classroom. Jared might be pissed, but he’s not a fucking idiot, he can save it until they get somewhere private. 

Jensen unlocks the door and steps inside, and Jared’s practically on top of him he’s so close behind. He grabs the knob, shuts the door himself.

“What the fuck was that?” he hisses.

Jensen spins to face him, hands him the key. “I could ask you the same thing. What were you doing in there?”

Jared snatches the key, lifts his arms with angry sarcasm. “Dancing?”

Jensen laughs. The sound is harsh, echoing strangely off the hard walls of the classroom. He turns his back, walks towards his desk, hands in his pockets.

Jared forces himself to turn around, put the key to the lock and turn it. He leaves it in the door and spins around. Jensen’s standing near the desk, back still turned. “What’s so fucking funny?” Jared demands.

“Dancing?” Jensen asks. “There are countries where they’d call that _mating_.”

Okay, he’s got a point, but so fucking _what_? Jared’s as angry as he is fascinated, because he can’t imagine Jensen giving a _damn_. Unless… unless… “Don’t tell me I made you _feel_ something?” 

Jensen snorts, shakes his head and folds his arms across his chest. “Jared.”

“No,” Jared says, taking a few steps closer. “Come on. Tell me what you were feeling when Steve had his hands all over me. _Grinding_ into me.” Words given with wicked enjoyment, and God, he’s being so _mean_ , but it feels _good_ , high, sharp streak of joy swelling in his chest. “What did you feel? What did you think?”

“That you were deliberately making a spectacle of yourself, hoping you’d get my attention. It’s what you do.”

“I wasn’t, actually,” Jared laughs. “But looks like it worked anyway, huh?” 

Jensen turns to face him, arms still folded, and God, even here, even now, he’s so fucking beautiful that it hurts. “Because I knew you were _trying_ to get my attention, hoping you’d piss me off.” Jensen shakes his head. “Jared, I thought you’d learned better than that.”

“Why does it even matter what I do? I thought you didn’t care, anyway?”

“I never said I didn’t care.” His words fall flat, and Jared can’t read one bit of caring in his face.

“Then what the fuck did you say, Jensen? ‘Cause it sure sounded like that to me.”

Jensen’s eyes sharpen, and he moves closer. “You think I enjoyed that? Watching that kid put his fucking hands all over you? Grind on you like that?”

Jared blinks, stunned. It takes a few seconds for the words to sink in, and even then, he can’t even begin to process this. “Are you fucking _kidding_ me? You’re _jealous_?”

“Jealousy,” Jensen says, taking another step forward. “Would imply that I thought you belonged to me. That I _own_ you.”

“Or maybe it would just prove that you cared,” Jared says, eyes narrowing.

“You think jealousy is caring?” Jensen asks, stepping even closer. Close, so close. Heat of his breath grazing Jared’s mouth. “You want me to show you how I’d be if I _were_ jealous, Jared? You want to know how I’d treat you if I _did_ think you belonged to me?” Jensen reaches out, strokes his fingers over Jared’s shoulders, voice low and dangerous. “How I’d mark you, bite you, show everyone that you’re mine? How I’d fuck you until you could barely walk? That what you want?” His fingers tighten in Jared’s shoulder muscles, hard enough to make Jared gasp.

“You’re _not_ mine,” Jensen says, eyes swirling like storms. His thumbs curl in Jared’s neck muscles, yank him closer. “You’re no one’s property, Jared. You don’t even want to be.” Jensen breathes out, hot against his mouth. “So why do you _pretend_ to be?”

“Because I love you,” Jared whispers.

Jensen just looks at him for a second, and then he’s all over Jared, yanking, pushing, manhandling him across the room. Mouth hard and hungry over Jared’s, claiming, hot, biting hard, tongue shoving roughly inside Jared’s mouth. Jared feels his shoulders slam into the cinderblock wall, makes an mmph sound into Jensen’s mouth. Reaches up and grabs Jensen by the jaw with both hands, pulls him in deeper, clash of teeth, tongues fighting, bodies straining. Jensen’s like a wild thing, shoving at him, thrusting against him with violent jerks of his hips, all teeth and tongue and sinuous body. 

Jared sinks his teeth into Jensen’s lower lip, closes tight and feels Jensen gasp, fuck into him, hard cocks sliding, grinding together through their pants. Jared sinks his fingertips into the soft skin of Jensen’s cheek, digs hard and pries Jensen’s mouth open wider, plundering, tasting. Vicious battle of tongues, Jensen’s fingers sliding lower now, down, around, pushing into the soft places between Jared’s ribs, hard enough to bruise. Jared lets go of Jensen’s face, bites and licks at his mouth, slides his hands down Jensen’s waist and grabs Jensen’s ass in his hands. He squeezes hard, digs his fingers into tight, rounded muscle, shoves with his hips and yanks Jensen against him as he rolls up, dragging hard against Jensen’s cock with his own.

Jensen shudders, head to toe, low growl into Jared’s mouth as he grips Jared’s waist. 

The world spins, sudden twist of motion, and then Jared’s hitting the floor, tiles cold and solid against his back. He breathes out hard as he hits, Jensen’s weight on him, sealed against him like second skin, and he growls back, catches Jensen’s tongue between his teeth, slow slide, nipping at the tip.

“Come on. Show me how jealous you’re not,” Jared gasps.

“Shut up,” Jensen hisses, covers Jared’s mouth with his. Quick, hard fingers pulling at Jared’s pants. Jared hears the thread snap under the assault, the double buttons pop and skitter across the floor. Jensen’s tongue, thick and heavy in his mouth as Jensen yanks his zipper open with one violent tug. Jared sucks Jensen in like hard candy, fingers fisted in the lapels of Jensen’s tuxedo. Jared kicks off his shoes and then his pants and boxers are peeled inside out, torn away.

Rough, spit slicked fingers pushing inside him, burn and sting and so fucking _right_ , curling, stretching him, shoving into that bundle of nerves. “Fuck yeah, like that,” Jared gasps, head pushing his body off the floor into Jensen’s fingers. 

“See how you want it?” Jensen asks, voice dripping sex, winding dark threads around Jared, sleek and insinuating. His mouth biting against Jared’s belly, and Jared’s hips kick up, thrusting, taking him deeper. “How _desperate_ you are? For my hands on you, inside you.” Jensen scissors his fingers, spreading Jared wide, hot flash of pleasure all through him.

“Come on,” Jared wheezes, grips Jensen’s shoulders . “Fucking do it. Fuck me.”

Nip, lick, over the bone of Jared’s hip, and he shoves against Jensen harder. “See how you beg me for it?” Jensen growls, twisting both his fingers inside Jared and Jared _bounces_ up off the floor, sharp pleasure shooting through him, edge of pain, and it’s good, so fucking good. Jared hisses, grinding against Jensen’s hand.

Jensen sits up. Pants ripped open, shoved down his hips. Spits on his hand and rubs it up his thick, hard cock, fingers tugging, pulling, squeezing the head and sliding over, swirling the slick of precome down the length. Pearly and glistening, flushed deep red, and he runs his fingers over himself again, sharp yank on the slide up. Pushes it down and presses into Jared. Grabs Jared by the shoulders, shoves inside without hesitation, one long stroke filling Jared, pushing all the air out of Jared’s lungs.

“Gonna fuck you,” Jensen promises, voice black as pitch. “Fuck you until you can’t walk. Put my marks all over you.” His teeth are savage against Jared’s throat, pulling, tugging the thin skin. Jared moans, shoves into Jensen’s mouth, into his cock, world spinning out sideways as Jensen rushes to fill him again. “That’s what you want, right?” he asks, voice thick, darkly amused, so knowing. Almost gloating.

“Do it,” Jared whispers, runs his cheek over Jensen’s hair. 

“That.” Jensen snaps his hips into Jared. “Is what love does to you. It makes you stupid. Makes you want, until there’s nothing _but_ that want. Until there’s nothing else left inside you. Until you’ll take this and call it good, because it’s better than nothing. Better than not having. Until you’re empty,” Jensen pants, yanking Jared’s hair and pulling his head up, “and used up, and destroyed.” Jensen rams into him, hard and rough. 

Jared shoves his head into Jensen’s hand and gasps. “You were right.” He surges with his hips, catches Jensen’s upper lip between his teeth and twists. “You _don’t_ have anything else left to teach me.” 

“Love makes you a slave, Jared.” Jensen’s breathing hard, hammering into Jared.

Jared lifts his hips again, pushes into Jensen’s cock, feels him sink deep and moan. “Show me how you felt,” Jared whispers, licking the curve of Jensen’s ear, cheeks rubbing together. He spirals his tongue slow and breathes the words into Jensen. “You don’t believe in love. You don’t believe in jealousy.” Jared groans as Jensen catches across that spot inside him. “You don’t want me.” Jared wraps his arms tight around Jensen’s shoulders, slides his hands down Jensen’s back. “So show me how you felt when Steve had his hands all fucking over me.” 

“Shut up,” Jensen growls, thrusting hard, glide of teeth along Jared’s jaw, slick curl of tongue behind.

“I would have gone home with him,” Jared gasps, fingers clenching against the small of Jensen’s back. He can feel the muscles shoving, pumping in and out of him, rippling under his hands. “I would have fucked him, Jensen,” he moans, eyes fluttering shut. “Would have fucked him just like you’re fucking me right now.”

Jensen’s teeth sink into his throat, closing hard around a snarl, and Jared throws his head back, feels Jensen pound into him even _harder_ , whole body shaking with the impact. Fingers curling into his shoulders, mouth and hands holding him still while Jensen fucks him ruthlessly fast. Tongue skating over the thin skin of his pulse, teeth sliding, fastening again, mouth sucking, hard enough to burn, hard enough to _hurt_. 

“He moans so pretty.” Jared’s words are a harsh, hot whisper. “So fucking pretty,” he gasps, shoves his hips into Jensen, stiffens and shudders as Jensen slides all the way to the bottom, cock head scraping over the sweet spot. “So pretty that I used to fuck him for hours, just to hear it.” Jared walks his fingers lower, curls them into the curve of Jensen’s ass and urges him faster, harder. Sweat slick inside his jacket, heart beating like a drum. “I would have fucked him all night, tonight. Fucked him blind and stupid and useless…” Jared sucks in a breath and twists his hips, shivers at the way Jensen’s cock plunges into him, moans and rocks his hips around it. Teeth locked in his throat like a vise, fingernails cutting half-moons into his ass.

“I would have fucked the hell out of him,” Jared whispers, like a secret, close to Jensen’s ear as he can get. “And I…” Jared hooks his fingers into claws in Jensen’s bare skin, feels Jensen buck and shudder inside him. “Wouldn’t have…” Shove, twist, thrust, hold, giving as hard as Jensen’s giving. “Thought…” He lets go, slides his hands up Jensen’s back, into his hair, and yanks that mouth from worrying at his throat. “About you…” Bites Jensen’s lower lip and arches his back, gasps at the thrust.

“Not once,” he confides, quietly, licking a stripe across the dents his teeth left behind.

Jensen’s hands close around his, hard and fast, yank him from his hold on Jensen’s hair, thick strands pulling free, clinging between his fingers. Jensen slams Jared’s arms to the floor above his head, knuckles firing pain on impact. “Shut. The. Fuck. _Up_.”

“Or…maybe I would’ve let him… ungh… fuck _me_ ,” Jared gasps, writhes and rocks his hips. “Bet he would’ve… moaned even prettier for that.”

Jensen’s fingers tighten on him. “No you fucking wouldn’t,” he whispers, low and deadly, words sending shivers through Jared. “You wouldn’t fucking _dare_. Fucking _liar_.” Jensen’s voice is dark with anger, sound vibrating through Jared’s bones. Jensen’s hips snap hard, firing like pistons, like punishment, and Jared throws his head back, bites down hard, gritting his teeth. Jensen’s slamming into him, rough and hard, no grace, jolting Jared’s spine, driving him higher and higher. “This,” Jensen gasps, fingers of one hand hooking cruelly through both of Jared’s and holding him, “is all,” twist and shove and Jared cries out, Jensen hitting him at an angle, “you want,” dry, hot palm around Jared’s cock, sliding up and jerking brutally. “All you think about.” 

“Yes,” slow sound pulled from swollen, bruised lips.

“Fucking goddamned right,” Jensen hisses, body shaking, shuddering. Jensen lets go of Jared’s hands, slides his arm under Jared’s shoulders. Chests crushed tight together, Jensen’s hand jerking Jared, slipshod between their sweat slick bellies. “Nobody else gets to have you like this,” Jensen growls, teeth closing around Jared’s chin. Hot whisper, slick tongue over Jared’s mouth. “Don’t even pretend… you weren’t… thinking about me… the whole time he had his hands on you.” 

“Don’t… pretend… you weren’t… wishing it was you.”

“I wanted to kill him for touching you,” hips driving faster, harder, all rhythm lost, locked together, pushing desperately close to the edge. “Wanted to punish you for letting him.” Jensen’s eyes are wild, feral. “Wanted to fuck you like this, hurt you, make you pay.” Jensen leans in, sucks Jared’s lower lip between his teeth, and _bites_ , sharp taste of copper filling Jared’s mouth. “You’re mine. Every bit of you.” Swirl of tongue inside Jared’s mouth, licking away the blood, cock driving hard, again and again. “And you,” low rasp, shuddering thrust. “Fucking know it.” 

“You’re… just… as much a slave… as me… Jensen,” Jared grunts, thrusts, grinds his body against Jensen’s hips and feels pressure build, quick and tight in his stomach, volcanic rush. “I always… have been yours,” Jared moans out, hips stuttering, misfiring, back arching as he comes. Pumping hot and hard over Jensen’s fist, and he can feel Jensen seize inside him, fuck into that spot and slide deep. Another bright burst, Jared’s body contracting, shivering, twisting against the floor.

“Christ,” Jensen hisses. Jensen’s hand clutches convulsively around Jared’s dick, body shaking like he’s going to come apart. “So fucking good.” Body stiffening, cock pulsing hot and slick inside Jared. Sharp teeth against his neck, shaky pumps and thrusts as Jensen fills him, messy hand grabbing Jared by the hair as he rides it out.

“So fucking good. So fucking mine.” Yanks Jared’s head, twists his neck and kisses him hard enough to bruise. Clumsy lips and teeth, clashing, clicking, twist and tangle, and Jensen surges, fucks deep with his tongue, his cock, leaves Jared breathless, squirming. 

“Aren’t you?” Jensen asks, sucks in a breath and steals the air from Jared.

“Know I am,” Jared breathes, tremulous, body still quaking with aftershocks. “Yours,” he says, and slides his tongue into Jensen’s mouth. “Never,” he whispers as he slips out, licks across the swell of Jensen’s mouth, “wanted anything like I want you. Belong to you.”

Jensen whispers, “Oh, God,” into Jared’s mouth, and the sound hits Jared like a fist. He knows what’s going to happen the second before it does; Jensen pulls away. 

He disentangles from Jared awkwardly, jerks out too fast, leaves Jared gasping. 

“No, no, no,” Jensen whispers. Hands quickly tucking himself in, putting himself together. “No, no, no,” like a mantra and Jared wonders if maybe Jensen’s broken.

Jared gets to his feet, pulls his dress pants on, legs still shaky, awkward, one foot at a time. “Jensen.”

“I can’t do this, Jared. I can’t.”

“You just fucking _did_ ,” Jared says, tugging his zipper up.

“People don’t belong to each other, Jared.” Jensen looks stunned, like he has no idea how this happened, how he ended up here. “People don’t _own_ each other.”

Jared’s about had it with this flake-ass shit. He never took it—never _would_ have taken it—from Mick, or Terry, or Kevin, or Randy, or Steve. And he’s not going to take any more of it from Jensen.

“Belonging to each other is what love _is_ ,” Jared grates. “And you can call it slavery. You can call it stupidity. Doesn’t change what it is. Doesn’t change _that_ it is. Doesn’t change a fucking _thing_.”

“It doesn’t leave a choice,” Jensen says, like that’s everything.

“Love _is_ a choice. It’s the _choice_ to belong to someone. It’s the choice to _be_ a slave, if that’s what you wanna call it. It’s still a fucking choice. And if I’m not mistaken…” Jared spits, shoving the white tails of his shirt into his pants. 

“You’re the one that taught me control is having a _choice_.”

Jensen rubs a hand over his face, runs it through his hair and tugs. His eyes are wide and green, perplexed. He looks like a little boy. “This… this has been beyond my control for a long time.”

Jared feels like the world got yanked out from under him, because-- _what?_ Jensen’s _made_ of control, that’s all Jensen is, and this is utter bullshit. Jared’s just about to open his mouth and say so when he sees Jensen’s hand still fisted in his hair, knuckles white as he turns away from Jared. Jensen’s made of control and if he isn’t… if he isn’t, then that means…

That means…

And just like that, Jared gets it.

The world blurs, doubles, and Jared can feel wet warmth running down his cheeks. He wants to be angry, wants to _hate_ Jensen for this, but he can’t… he can’t even fucking have that because, Christ help him… he _understands_. 

“Jensen…” The word is ragged, a broken thing that falls out all wrong. Jensen sighs, and no. No. Jared doesn’t want it to be like this. Doesn’t want Jensen to hurt. He isn’t too fucking big on wanting himself to hurt either, but there’s no way around that for him. Bad enough he has to feel like this. Not Jensen, too.

He sucks in a breath, forces himself to breathe straight and even. Stares at the floor, lets the pounding of his heart smooth out. Wills himself into control, because _he_ has the choice and Jensen doesn’t.

He walks to Jensen, lets his fingertips trail over the lines of muscle in his back, imagines tanned, freckled skin, smooth and perfect. He feels Jensen shudder, his shoulders tense.

“No,” Jared whispers. Steps up behind Jensen, wraps his arms around Jensen’s shoulders and hugs him. Wants to let himself feel it, just one more time; Jensen in his arms. He kisses the spot where Jensen’s neck meets his shoulder, and Jensen is as still as a statue, heart thudding too fast. 

“I understand,” Jared says, whispers into his ear. He presses his lips against the curve, squeezes his eyes tight, breathes deep, fills his lungs with Jensen’s scent. “You don’t have the choice not to.”

Jensen hitches in a hard breath. “Never had a choice with you,” he whispers.

And there it is. The truth Jared’s been waiting to hear all this time. He’s imagined this moment, once or twice, when he dared to let himself. He always thought it would be happy, full of joy and pride. But his heart aches, bittersweet twist inside his chest.

_Control can be wanting something, and not doing it. But control can also be deciding to do something you want._

_But how can you tell? Because… sometimes it starts as a blind urge, then you think about it, and decide to do it anyway. How do you know you're just not tricking yourself?_

_Because you know you don't **have** to do it. Because you also have the choice **not** to do it._

He knows it isn’t right. That shouldn’t be all there is. There should be more choices than that, and it isn’t fucking _fair_. But this is _Jensen_ , and that’s it. Jensen doesn’t have a choice _not_ to. And when you take that away… all that’s left is to want and not have. 

Jensen _is_ broken. Slave to his own rules, and there’s _nothing_ Jared can do to change it, no matter how much he wants to. The choice has to be Jensen’s. He wants to rail, and scream, rip right out of his skin. But all the screaming in the world can’t make a difference here. He does the only thing he can.

“I love you,” Jared says, tightens his fingers in Jensen’s shoulders.

And then he steps back, lets his arms slide away.

“Goodbye, Jensen.”

He leaves Jensen standing there, hardly able to see as he turns the key, opens the door. He steps into the hall and closes it softly behind him. Knows he won’t see the inside of that room again.

*

It takes a Chad-intervention of epic proportions to keep Jared from going to Jensen’s house on Sunday, and by Monday, he’s got himself together. Jared walks home alone after sixth period, peels back the covers on his bed and climbs inside. Imagines his empty desk in the classroom, wonders if Jensen stares at it, thinks about him. His pillow is wet when the door to his room creaks open and Chad steps in.

He wipes his face and sits up. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Chad says and sits down on the bed. “So… I told him what you said. That you weren’t coming back, and your assignments could be sent through me.”

Jared nods, bites hard against his lower lip. Doesn’t want to ask. Can’t help it.

“What did he say?”

“The Ice Princess?” Chad asks and snorts. He looks away, across the room. “He said ‘fine’.”

“That’s… that’s it?”

Chad nods, looking solemn as he turns to Jared, his lips pressed tight together. Jared doesn’t think he’s ever seen Chad so grim. “That’s it,” he says.

“Okay.” Jared takes a shaky breath and nods. Lets it out and nods again. “Okay.”

*

Somehow, he manages to make it through the whole week.

First period is in the same hall as Jensen’s classroom, and he’s late every single day. Stands at his locker and waits until after the bell rings before he even starts moving. He can only see the students in Jensen’s classroom in the direction that he passes. He’d have to turn his head and look back to see Jensen sitting at his desk. And he doesn’t. Knows he wouldn’t be able to keep walking if he did. His homeroom teacher wants to give him shit for being late every day; he can see it in her face. But it’s the last week of school and it’s not like anyone’s doing work anyway—except in Jensen’s class. School is an effort, a grinding away of hours, Jensen far too close and too much like temptation, Jared counting down until he can cut seventh period and be free. 

Friday is the last day of school, and Jared spends the whole day writing in yearbooks and exchanging phone numbers, hugging and saying goodbye. It’s hard to concentrate, to realize these people will be gone and that he needs to pay attention. The most important person is already gone. 

The bell rings at the end of sixth period, and he takes his time getting his things out of his gym locker, packing them into his bag. Looks around and can’t believe he’s never coming back here again.

The bell for seventh period rings, and when Jared steps into the hallway, it’s deserted. He walks slow, takes a good look around, hesitates and turns the corner instead of heading straight for the double doors.

 _Just this once_.

Jared crosses on the far side of the hall, like he has all week. Inside the classroom, he can see kids sitting together in groups around a cluster of pushed together desks. They’re laughing and talking, passing yearbooks around, writing things down. He crosses the hall again once he’s past the open door, creeps back up and peeks from the edge of the open door, shoulder pressed tight to the wall. Jensen’s sitting at his desk, fingers folded under his chin, staring off into the distance. He looks lost in thought, intent, maybe even… a little bit sad? 

It hits Jared all over again, how beautiful Jensen is, and it hurts and feels so good all at once to see him that Jared doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. It aches, makes his heart swell and thud, his stomach turn upside down and inside out, but he can't make himself move.

Jared must stand there for a full minute or two, just watching. Jensen doesn’t move the entire time, except to thumb at his jaw once. It’s overwhelming, how badly Jared wants to walk in, cross the room and put his hand on Jensen’s face, lift his jaw and kiss him. For a second, he even lets himself imagine that Jensen’s face would light up to see him. Smile just because Jared was there. It’s almost physically painful, how much he wants it, and he spreads his hand flat against the cinderblock wall, tries to catch his breath.

Jensen’s eyes flicker behind his glasses, like he’s noticing something, and he starts to turn his head toward Jared—

Jared yanks back from the doorway like it was on fire, heart hammering in his chest. He turns and hurries down the hall, pushes through the double doors and keeps going. He only looks back once, when he’s stepping into the parking lot, and from this distance he almost thinks he can see a silhouette, someone standing in the hall outside the classroom doorway.

Wishful thinking, he tells himself, keeps walking.

*

On Saturday, Chad borrows his mom’s car and they drive to the concert arena for graduation. Jared lines up with all the other seniors, rows of them in identical maroon gowns and gold tassels. Principal Leeman gives a pretty decent speech—at least, the parts Jared actually manages to pay attention to. There isn’t much else to do except listen to the drone of names being called, a few short speeches from other students, and it seems like an eternity before Principal Leeman finally calls his name.

Jared takes his diploma, shakes the principal’s hand and summons a smile. The podium is only a few steps away, but it feels like a long time to think about everything he wants to say. He clears his throat and leans his mouth down to the microphone.

He has a whole speech prepared; he’s been working on it all year. You don’t win class clown, most popular and most athletic and get up at graduation without a speech prepared. Everyone’s expecting it, expecting him to be entertaining, put his own touch on the end of the year. 

He thinks about everything he’s learned this year, the most valuable lessons of his entire life. 

Jared looks out over the crowd; picks his face easily out of hundreds. Their eyes meet, lock across a hundred feet, and Jared takes a deep breath, knows this is the last time he’s ever going to have the chance. He manages a tiny smile, feels his mouth tremble, lets everything he feels shine through--gratitude, love, sadness—and looks straight into those eyes.

“Thank you,” he breathes.

The crowd applauds, but Jensen doesn’t move, stares back at Jared like he’s transfixed, the lines in his face etched deep with emotion Jared can’t read. Jared nods slowly and steps back, straightening his spine. Takes one last look as he waves goodbye, and then he turns away. 

The crowd's still applauding as he walks, but he can hardly hear the sound, one voice ringing in his ears.

_This is all it was ever supposed to be._

He closes his eyes as he steps from the stage, barely makes it before the tears start to fall.

*

The weeks pass slower than Jared ever remembers them. Every day is beautiful, gorgeous Californian sky clear blue, and Chad won’t leave him the fuck alone, trying to get Jared to go with him and Sandy to the bay, to the movies, do _anything_. Jared spends most of the first week in his room, laying in bed and watching the history channel, because it’s about the only thing on that (usually) doesn’t remind him of Jensen. 

The second week, he moves to the living room, watches TV on the couch. On Saturday, he finally ventures outside for the first time since he got home from graduation. It lasts five minutes, until he sees the wrought iron, glass-topped table on the back patio, and he’s back inside, sliding the glass door shut with a hollow boom.

And yeah, he’s pathetic, and ridiculous. He figures, maybe someday the world will be all right again, that he’ll leave his house, that every single song on the radio or storyline in a book or movie won’t make him think of Jensen every second. He’s lying on the couch, arms wrapped around a pillow, not really watching the old black and white documentary that’s droning on. Imagines Jensen. Wonders where he is right now, what he’s doing. If he… ever thinks about Jared. 

He’s almost asleep when the doorbell rings. He sits up and sighs, throws the pillow in the corner of the couch and grabs the remote. He clicks off the TV as he walks to the door. Fucking Chad. He loves the boy to death, but he’s _really_ got to stop coming by five or six times a day.

Jared blinks hard. Because yeah, he’s imagined this moment, over and over again like something out of a movie, knowing full well it would never happen. He blinks again, and Jensen’s still standing there. He looks as amazing as ever, perfect and gorgeous, dressed in jeans and a green button down shirt, sheaf of paper clutched in one hand. The only thing that’s different is those eyes, looking at Jared so intently, tiny lines creased around the edges. 

“You’re _here_?” Jared asks, barely aware that he’s asking the question. He’s still reeling, and feeling a lot like maybe his brain fell out of his head when he opened the door. “You’re here,” he says again, as it dawns on him that it’s true. Jensen’s standing at his front door, on his fucking front _porch_ , and his heart’s beating faster, thundering out of control, joy like a physical rush pushing up out of his stomach. He wants to laugh, wants to kiss him, wants to cry. 

“Wait,” he says. “You’re here.” His eyes narrow, heart fighting him for control. He shoves it down, kicking and screaming. “Why are you here?”

“I’m still getting over you not slamming the door in my face,” Jensen says, staring at Jared like he really is surprised. 

And Jared… Jared _thinks_ about it, fingers twitching on the doorknob. He can see Jensen’s eyes change as Jensen sees the shift in Jared, go from surprised to tense. 

“Don’t,” he says, voice quiet. “I _do_ have a reason for being here.”

Jared just stands there, and he’s starting to shake now, too many emotions all at once, too much to process, and he has no idea what to fucking do.

“Not too long ago, you promised me ‘anything’,” Jensen says, hedging. He shifts his weight, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “And you told me… ‘Make sure it’s… something you really want. Something just for you.’ I couldn’t even imagine anything I’d want, then. But now… I can’t think of anything else I want more than for you to listen to me. You don’t owe me anything after what I put you through, but I really hope you’ll hear me out.”

Jared stares at him for a long time, the caring, the anxious hope in Jensen’s eyes, concealed, but so clearly there. He steps back from the door and opens it wider in invitation. It’s fucking bizarre, Jensen being here, surreal, and he goes to the couch, sits down and grabs the pillow from the corner, puts it in his lap and holds on tight.

Jensen sits down closer to the other end of the couch, smoothing out the papers in his hand. 

“What is that?”

“It’s…” Jensen starts to smile, stops, actually chuckles. “It’s something I wrote.”

“Like a report or something?” Jared asks, not quite believing that even Jensen would bring fucking reports into this.

“More like a biography. Call it an essay; ‘What I Did Over My Very Brief Summer Vacation’”

“And you brought this because…?”

“Because it’s what I came to say.”

“You’re serious with this shit?” Jared asks.

“Dead serious,” Jensen says, and clears his throat, shaking out the papers. He looks almost apologetic as he folds them under. “It was either this or me monologuing at you off the cuff for a couple hours. Trust me. This is less painful.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” Jared laughs.

“I have another version that uses charts and blackboards.”

Jared shakes his head. “Tell me you didn’t make charts.”

“It was a near thing.”

And that’s just so Jensen that Jared can’t hold back his laughter. “You’re so anal that it’s kinda hot.”

“Kinda?” Jensen arches a brow.

“Don’t push your luck,” Jared says, grinning. And it’s weird, how natural this feels. So natural that he’s suddenly uncomfortable. “All right. Read it.”

Jensen nods. He looks a little stiff, not like robot stiff, but uncomfortable stiff. Like a guy who hates speeches but is about to make one anyway.

“This story doesn’t start with being born,” he says in that smooth, deep voice of his, and Jared cuts a sideways glance at him. “It starts with being shaped. It’s not like the psychologists want you to tell it. It didn’t start with my mother. It started when I was sixteen.” He clears his throat like he’s uncomfortable, then continues. “I didn’t know I was gay then, and she was older than me; twenty-five, and beautiful, so composed, powerful and strong. A friend of the family, someone I’d known all my life, and someone I trusted. When she made the first move, I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know that I had a choice.”

“I was never like her. I was always too emotional, too angry, and too quick to rise to a challenge. I admired her, so much, her complete control. She was my first, and she… was something else. Like an alien. Like perfection; the complete discipline of her, never giving in to a single desire. Not even love. She taught me that love didn’t exist. ‘Only in poet’s pens and dreadfully dull imaginations,’ she said. She taught me that I must always have control of a situation. That love made you out of control. It made you stupid. It made you do reckless, destructive things and left you in a bad place. And that when it was over—and it would _always_ be over—you would be in an even worse place than where you started.”

Jensen swallows hard. Takes a second and goes on. “That all it did was open you to the whims of other people, to their desires and wants. Like cutting open your chest and offering to let them stab you in your still-beating heart. Romantic ideals, she said, were for children and idiots. Own yourself, give them nothing; they will give you nothing more and deserve less.”

Jared shakes his head, frowns and presses his lips together. “Jesus.” 

Jensen continues like he didn’t hear Jared. “And I believed her. Because I knew that she didn’t let love get to her. Even if, sometimes, I thought maybe she loved me. But the more I thought it, the more she made it apparent that she didn’t. She was colder, harder, and it became apparent to me that no, even I couldn’t get under her skin, inside her heart. That…” Jensen breathes deep.

“That was when I first wanted to stop going to her. Because, why should I, when she barely cared about me at all? But what she gave me... so much of what I thought I wanted. I wanted her. I craved her. She was everything I wasn’t and everything I wanted to be, and when she touched me--even when she made me beg for her to do it—it was like being cared for. And I thought, even if she didn’t love me, why would she teach me if I wasn’t worth teaching? Even if I couldn’t earn her love, I could earn her lessons. I could become what she was.”

“Two years,” Jensen breathes. “For two years, I gave in, let her have her way, even when my spirit fought against it. Because she was right, she _knew_ , understood what I never could. Someone above me, someone more than me. And then, one day, I finally told her how I felt. What she meant to me. That I only endured all this for her caress, for her approval. That I needed what she was teaching me, but that I never would have wanted to learn it with anyone else. She laughed.”

“Jensen,” Jared whispers, heart caught in his throat.

“No,” Jensen says, raising his hand. “Listen.” He lowers his hand, smoothes his fingers out across the paper. “She laughed,” he says, again. “She told me, then, that I was as weak as everyone she’d ever known. That if the only reason I was doing this was to gain her approval, no matter _how_ much I needed it, then I was pathetic. She was sharp and reprimanding. She was cold, like she was made of ice as she took me apart, body and mind. And when it was over, I realized I _didn’t_ need this. That I had the choice _not_ to go to her. The moment I realized that… I was free. I never went back—never even wanted to. I’d learned what I needed to know.”

Jensen turns the page, hand shaking slightly as he folds it under, begins to read again.

“In retrospect, I think maybe she did me more harm than good.”

“You think?” Jared mutters, pissed at this woman he doesn’t even know.

“But even now, I can’t think of her as simply hurting me, because she did teach me a lot of things. She taught me an effective shield. It let me become the master of my own world. It helped me own the people who would never have looked at me for more than just my pretty face. I got stronger, came into complete control. It was simple, I thought. Just shut them out, give them nothing; they will give you nothing more and deserve less.”

“I moved out of my parents house, went to college, and I never saw her again. There were no more women after her. Might never have been any women at all, if she hadn’t existed. There were other people, though. Most of the ones who were drawn to me, I didn’t even want. But there were a few. A few that reminded me of myself when I was younger, that needed, seemed to want to learn control. They were the ones I took under my wing, into my bedroom. I took her role—I was more suited to that role anyway, as I discovered—but I didn’t treat them like she treated me. I tried to do better. Still, they were always compliant. They didn’t try to learn, wanted nothing but to please, had no strength of their own. And they looked to me to provide it. None of those relationships lasted more than a few weeks.”

Jared sets his jaw, looks Jensen square in the face, but he’s still reading.

“I dated. That was always a separate thing from having subs. Subs were supposed to be taught, interactions that we could both enjoy and get something from. I understood that. It was what I’d always known. But if subs wanted a lot from me, people I dated wanted even more.” 

“Go figure,” Jared says, wry.

Jensen smiles, not a bit of humor in it. “The only thing you need to know is; I was never any good at dating. The rules were… too individual, too complicated. I always saw it this way; I buy you this many drinks and this many meals, you buy me this many movie tickets, I give you this many flowers, we fuck. What people really want is that last part, but for some reason, people have to go through this ridiculous ritual of dating. The number of outings, or tickets, or meals is different for each person, and even if the sex is worth it after all that, then comes the needing, and the love, and the bending to their whims. Subs, even if they didn’t want to learn, I knew what they wanted, what they expected.”

It’s almost scary to Jared, how much fucking sense that makes.

Jensen pauses, bites his lower lip, shrugs one shoulder. “There’s more here,” he says, “but it’s not as important.”

Jared shifts on the couch. “Jensen,” he says, starts to shake his head. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I mean, I’m glad you’re telling me all this… and I wish you’d done it a long time ago. But you don’t have to do it, now. You don’t owe me anything.”

“I’m not done,” Jensen says, licks his thumb and turns ahead several pages. Then he sighs, throws the paper down on the couch beside him, shakes his head. “I don’t need notes for this,” he says, lifting his face to look at Jared. “The next part goes… ‘and then I met you’.”

Jared’s heart flutters in his chest. “What… what did that change?”

“Everything,” Jensen says. “You. You were strong, almost _too_ strong. The way you laughed, smiled, so confident and sure of yourself. Yet you came to me, wanted to learn. And I thought, at first… maybe you were just like everyone else. That you wanted me to break your ‘strength’ and make you subservient. But you always put yourself out there. You never faked, you never hid. You always told me the truth. You _wanted_ to learn, and you _did_. You submitted to me, but you never gave up who you were, or what you wanted.” Jensen shakes his head, goes on more quietly. “More than that… you liked _me_. Wanted to know about me. I can count on one finger, Jared, the people I’ve fucked who ever actually liked me beyond my looks and my skill.” Jensen sighs. “I had no idea what to do with you.”

Jensen picks up the paper, starts to read. “I thought I had myself together, so carefully arranged, perfectly poised. And then came this kid… this kid I thought I was smart enough to teach, who actually _wanted_ to learn. He was a better student than I ever was, and he learned fast. He was all I could think about. He made me _want_ , for the first time in almost ten years. He made it so easy to give in to that want, to indulge. His thoughts, his words, his smile, the way he touched and kissed and wanted _me_ , chipped away at my control until it finally broke. And I was scared… stupid. He loved me, and I hurt him, pushed him away.”

“I tried to go back to my life, back to the field. But everything was different. He was all I could think about—all I _had_ been thinking about for months. I kept thinking about what happened. How he’d learned all my lessons, better than I ever did. He showed me that I’d grasped the concepts, enough to even teach them, but that I’d never really learned anything at all. He was twice the person I’d ever been. Because he _understood_ the lessons, _knew_ the path, didn’t just walk it carefully like I always had. He was everything I _should_ have been, everything my mistress pretended to be. Wiser and more of an adult than either one of us ever were.” 

“I realized that I was still sixteen inside, covering up my weaknesses with control. I’d hid away the parts—those out of control feelings and thoughts and impulses—that I didn’t want anyone to see, ignored them for years. I’d always thought I was better, more enlightened than other people. That I didn’t _need_ anything. That emotion was for the weak. He taught me that I was as human as anyone else. That choosing love _is_ having control, and that you’re only ever as out of control as you allow yourself to be. He taught me this, because he came to me with love and he walked away from me with love—no hate, no blame, even though I’d hurt him. And finally I could admit to myself, what a huge mistake I’d made, letting him go.”

Jared’s heart is caught in his throat, mouth suddenly dry.

“I realized that I had to see him, one more time. Tell him all this.”

“Jensen,” Jared whispers. _God_. He doesn’t even know what to _say_. Just seeing Jensen here is enough to make Jared feel like he’s going to come apart. Listening to this, it hurts, hurts in so many different ways and all he wants to do is lean in, wrap his arms around Jensen’s shoulders, hug him tight. Everything makes so much more sense, and if Jared hadn’t forgiven him already, he’d be forgiving him right here and now. But… but... this only tells him what happened before. Not a single word about how Jensen feels now. Jared needs to know. Can't just sit here next to Jensen, wanting to touch him so much and not know.

Jared rises from the couch, takes a couple of steps away from the temptation, folds his arms over his chest. All this, and Jensen still can’t just put out there how he feels, what he wants? Reading from a paper… it’s so Jensen but, but there’s something else to it, too. There’s the fact that it’s probably the only way Jensen can tell him any of this. Third person, without having to look Jared in the eye. And he loves Jensen, he still does, probably always will, but he can’t, just _can’t_ let Jensen run in and out of his life like this. Can’t be with Jensen until Jensen can start dealing, start admitting how he feels.

Jared takes a breath and when he's ready, he turns around. “She taught you that love didn’t exist. And I get that she fucked you up—no, don’t even,” Jared says, lifting a hand when Jensen starts to protest. “She fucked you up and that’s all there is to it. But what’s your excuse _now_? Don’t you know better? Haven’t you _learned_ better?”

Jensen folds his hands together. "You didn’t let me finish,” he says with a tight smile. “The end says... That I…” Jensen stumbles over the words. “That I figured everything out too late. That I’m sorry. And… I _do_ want to learn better. Want to try again.” 

“It's just…” Jensen looks up and meets Jared’s eyes full on. “I think I need some help. Maybe some tutoring."

Jared remembers those words. The same ones he said to Jensen four months and a lifetime ago. His eyes are burning, filled to the brim with tears. His chest hitches as he breathes deep, repeats the words Jensen said to him that day. “You have someone in mind for this tutoring?”

Jensen rises to his feet, walks to Jared. He just stands there for a second, and then his hand moves, palm brushing Jared’s cheek. Jared leans his face into the touch, stares into those deep green eyes, so open, wide and honest.

“I was thinking,” Jensen says, “maybe you could teach me.”

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

Jared calls Chad pretty much the second after Jensen leaves.

Chad’s at his doorstep five minutes later, before Jared can even finish the story. Jared hangs up the phone as he answers the door and keeps right on talking as Chad walks inside.

“And then he asked if I still had the tuxedo that I wore to prom.”

“The fuck did he wanna know that for?” 

“That’s what I was wondering. But then he asked if he could take me somewhere tonight.” Jared’s grinning from ear to ear, and he knows he probably looks like an idiot, but he so doesn’t care right now.

“Like on a date? In a tux?”

“Yeah.”

Chad grins and smacks Jared’s shoulder. “I told you he’d come crawling back on his knees.”

Jared blinks. “You did not. In fact, your exact words were ‘he’s a fuckin’ tweakball of fuckwittage on a clusterfuck platter with a side of asshat and no fork, and he’s gonna die a lonely old fuckin’ man; good riddance’.”

“Yeah, okay. But that was before,” Chad says, waving Jared off. 

“Before what?”

“Before he showed up on your doorstep with a fuckin’ essay about how you changed his life, apologized, asked for another chance and asked you out on a date. See, ‘cause right then, this whole fuckin’ thing turned into movie material. Bonafide, 100%, Grade A, sappy chick flick shit. I’m dating Sandy; Mr. Ackles comes crawling back on hands and knees.” Chad looks at Jared, like this is supposed to _mean_ something. “Don’t you get it, Jay? We’re in fuckin’ Bizzaro fairy-tale world.” Chad throws up his hands, like that explains everything. “Might as well play the part, right? Your fuckin’ fairy Godmother’s here Cinderella. Let’s get you ready.”

And Jared has to laugh. “Chad. You are officially the weirdest best friend ever.”

“You’re pretty heavy competition, Jay. But the big difference between me and you? I make it look _good_ ,” Chad says and struts off upstairs.

Jared takes the stairs two at a time after him. Jensen was here for a few hours, talking, but he still can't believe this is happening. Going on a _date_?

Jared pulls the tuxedo from the hanger at the back of his closet. It’s still wrapped in plastic from the dry cleaners, and he runs his fingers over the smooth surface. He’d had to buy it after everything that happened. Bad night or not, it was the last one he thought he’d ever have with Jensen. 

“Okay, enough with the fuckin’ ghost of Christmas past,” Chad says, snatching the tux out of Jared’s hands. “We gotta get you dressed.”

The doorbell rings at 7 p.m. on the dot. Jared’s still fussing with his bow tie in the bathroom mirror, and Chad yells out, “I’ll get it,” feet thumping down the stairs before Jared can say anything. Jared freaks for a few seconds before he realizes that it’s _Jensen_ downstairs. If anybody can handle Chad, it’s Jensen.

When Jared gets downstairs a few minutes later, Jensen’s sitting on the couch and that alone is weird enough for Jared. But Chad’s sitting next to Jensen, one hand on Jensen’s shoulder and the other one waving a cigarette through the air as he talks expansively. Jensen’s actually listening, one hand propped under his chin as he looks at Chad.

“You can do it, dude. It’s all about finding the middle ground between her and the Prince of Cats and then you get a perfect balance.” Chad pauses, then adds, “And some kind of weird, angel-winged cat thing.”

“Why is she wearing wings again?” Jensen asks.

“Hey,” Jared says, stepping into the room.

Chad pats Jensen on the shoulder, leans in and says, quietly, “Trust me, dude. Just go with that, you’ll do fine.”

Jensen’s eyes are a little wider than usual as he rises to his feet. “You look…”

“Yeah, this is where I make my exit,” Chad says. He elbows Jared on his way to the door. “Have a good time, Jay. See ya, Mr. Ackles.” Chad waves before he shuts the door behind him.

“Yeah,” Jared says, taking in just how amazing Jensen looks in his tuxedo all over again. “You, too.” Jared’s got butterflies in his stomach, and it’s weird that he still feels just as nervous and excited when everything’s so different. 

They stand there just looking at each other for a second, and then Jensen asks, “Ready?” 

Jared nods, and Jensen walks to the door, puts his hand on the knob.

“He’s got a certain charm,” Jensen nods in the direction of the door, and Jared figures he must mean Chad.

“Yeah,” Jared shifts his feet nervously, puts his hands in his pockets. “What was he saying to you anyway?”

Jensen opens the front door and motions Jared through. “You mean besides threatening my life if I hurt you again?” he asks, so smoothly that Jared’s sure he must have misunderstood.

Jared stops and looks back over his shoulder. “He what?”

“He was admirably direct about it before he launched into a cute parable of Romeo and Juliet, where he played a very convincing Mercutio.” Jensen says, smirking as he closes the door behind them and steps up beside Jared.

Jared blinks as they fall into step together. “He just…” Jared fumbles for the right words.

“Cares about you,” Jensen interjects.

“Yeah,” Jared murmurs. He looks through his bangs down at Jensen. He doesn’t seem angry, which is a good sign. “So, who were you?”

Jensen purses his lips, bemused. “A surprisingly apt mixture of Juliet and Tybalt.” He cuts Jared a sideways look. “He does know how the story ends, right?”

“With Chad? Who knows?” Jared laughs. “Chad can’t tell you how to cross the street without circling the entire universe a couple times. You should hear his theory on how you specifically chose to teach thermodynamics as a metaphor for the relationship between me and you.”

Jensen falters in mid-stride, and Jared glances over. Jensen looks a little surprised and… slightly guilty?

Jared stops walking, realizing. “Did you?”

“Subconsciously, maybe,” Jensen says, slowly, halting and turning towards Jared. “Because if I had a nickel for every time it fit…” He looks gorgeous in the orange light of sunset, irises lit with the fiery color, and Jared can’t help but take a step closer to him.

“That just leaves one question then,” Jensen says, looking up into Jared’s eyes.

“What?” Jared asks, feeling breathless.

Jensen’s eyes flicker back and forth between Jared’s, light frown knotting the space between his brows. “Why is Juliet wearing wings in Chad’s story?”

Jared bursts out laughing, can’t help it. The moment’s gone, and Jared explains about the movie version and Claire Danes on the rest of the short walk to the car. Jensen opens the door on the passenger side, and it takes Jared a couple seconds before he realizes he’s supposed to get in. Jared slides into the smooth, buttery leather of the passenger seat. 

“You know, BMW’s are pretty sweet,” he says with a glance at Jensen, “but I wouldn’t have pegged you for the status car type.”

“It’s not a status car,” Jensen says, shutting the door behind Jared. 

“It’s all about efficiency and performance,” Jensen continues as he slides behind the wheel and pulls the door shut. “They’ve been perfecting it for a century. German workmanship is some of the best out there; they made the best and most used airplane and jet engines during World War II. Now their focus is on the driving experience, vehicle performance. They’re constantly asking customers for their input on the models, redesigning and updating based on customer and tester input.”

Jensen sounds a little stiff, and like maybe he’s had to give this speech before. “Did I strike a nerve?” Jared asks, smiling.

Jensen goes on like Jared didn’t say a word. “It has an EPA achievement award, several years running. They’re constantly taking measures to reduce the impact the company has on the environment. Trying to design less-polluting cars by making existing models more efficient.”

“Just give me your written report and I’ll read it later, okay?” 

Jensen’s still going on. “They’re built to last, and Germany has _great_ labor laws, and...”

“Oh my _God_!” Jared laughs holding up his hands. “I’m sold, OKAY?”

Jensen’s mouth snaps shut, and he looks slightly embarrassed, uncomfortable.

“I was just teasing,” Jared says, softly. “I get it; not a status car. It’s a _good_ car. And I promise I’ll read your report later,” he adds with a smile.

The smile on Jensen’s mouth is hard given, almost grudging. “What makes you think I have one?”

Jared just stares with a “duh, of course you do” look, and Jensen’s smile broadens into something more natural. 

“It’s in the glove compartment if you get bored.”

“You are unbelievable.” Jared laughs and shakes his head, settles back in his seat. “So where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

It doesn’t take them too long to get there, driving on a quiet, winding road along the coastline once they’re outside the city. Jared sees the yellow glow of lights in the distance before they get there. It’s designed like a mansion except much smaller; a white building with pillars, complete with chandeliers hanging in the entryway. A valet attendant takes the car when they pull up out front, and Jensen settles his hand on Jared’s elbow as he comes around the car. Jared’s suddenly all too aware of Jensen beside him, the warm press of fingers that guide him through the double doors—until they get inside, and then he forgets everything for a few seconds.

The ceiling curves high above his head, intricately carved cathedral arches rising up between gargoyles that snarl and grimace from their perch atop massive pillars. They gaze down from the spaces between stained glass skylights that swell in graceful domes toward the sky, and he can imagine how beautiful the room must be when the sun shines through them, painting the whole room with scattered prisms of rainbow light. The room is round; pillars and gargoyles circling the expanse of white clothed tables that make a circle of their own around a ballroom floor, stage with a grand piano rising at a gentle jut from the center of that. The ceiling over the table area is still incredibly high, divided by chandeliers with huge crystals set into place like the petals of a flower inverted, twinkling with warm yellow light. 

“Wow,” he breathes. He’s no sheltered kid; he’s been rich all his life and he’s been to a lot of extravagant places, but that doesn’t mean he can’t still appreciate them. “This place is gorgeous.”

“Good evening, Mr. Ackles,” the maitre d, clad in a tuxedo with tails, smiles as he steps up to them. “How are you this fine night?”

“Excellent, Claude. You?”

“Very good, sir, thank you. Your table is right this way,” Claude says, leading them.

Jensen pulls out Jared’s chair for him, and he hesitates a second before he sits down. It’s… weird. Jensen’s being so… chivalrous. On the one hand, it’s kind of nice to be getting the attention and consideration; on the other, Jared’s not a girl.

Jensen sits down across from him, opens the red leather menu.

“How did you get a reservation here on such short notice?” Jared asks, opening his menu as well. 

“It’s a private club,” Jensen says, looking up. “It belongs to a friend of mine.”

“So you just called him up this afternoon and told him you needed a reservation tonight and he said ‘okay’?”

“I most certainly did not,” says a deep, male voice from behind him, and Jared turns as the man draws up to the table between them. He’s handsome in a rugged way; sharp angles to his square face and strong jaw, blue eyes set deep and twinkling mischievously. His hair is light brown, longish and curly, strange contrast to the expensive suit he’s wearing, but it fits somehow, looks natural on him. He looks like the kind of guy who could be comfortable anywhere, wearing anything.

The man cuts Jensen a look and smiles. “I told him there was no way in hell I had a table open on that short notice. You know what he says?” the man asks, turning his eyes on Jared. “He says to me, ‘Chris, _please_ , it’s really important’. _Please_ , you believe that? From Jensen I’d-rather-die-than-ask-anyone-for-a-favor Ackles? Then he says, ‘It’s for someone special’. Now,” the man--who Jared is guessing is named Chris—says, grinning. “I’ve known Jensen since high school, and never, not once, have I heard him use the word ‘special’ about a _person_. So,” Chris says, shrugging. “I made the damned reservation. I figured; I have to meet this ‘special’ person for myself.”

Jensen’s face creases with a rueful smile. “Jared, meet Chris Kane, the friend I was telling you about. Chris; Jared.”

“Pleasure,” Chris says, extending his hand. Jared shakes it, notices the firm grip, strong, smooth fingers. “I’d warn you to watch out for him,” Chris says, nodding in Jensen’s direction as he lets go of Jared’s hand. “But I figure if you’re qualifying as ‘special’ at this point, you probably already know what a bastard he is.” Chris winks, stealing the sting from the words, and across the table, Jensen sighs. “Don’t let him chase you off.”

“Chris.” Jensen says his name like a warning.

“You know that’s not good for your blood pressure, Jen.” Chris leans toward Jared, like he’s confiding. “Just look at him, all uptight. You’d never guess what a hellion he was in high school, would you?”

Jared squints at Chris, dubious. No, he really can’t imagine it. 

Chris laughs. “I’ll tell you all about it sometime.”

“You done?” Jensen asks, dangerous note in his voice.

“Almost. This calls for something as special as the occasion.” Chris raises a hand, snaps his fingers, and a waiter appears out of what seems like thin air. “Gabe,” Chris says to him, “A bottle of 1944 Chateau Mouton Rothschild for these two, on the house. And take good care of them tonight.” 

“Yes sir,” Gabe nods and vanishes as quickly as he appeared.

“There,” Chris smirks, self-satisfied. “Now I’m done. You two have a good time.”

“Thanks,” Jared smiles.

“We’ll be seeing you around, Jared,” Chris says, with a pointed look at Jensen. “Won’t we? Oh, and,” Chris says, pausing and putting a hand on Jensen’s shoulder. “By ‘we’, I mean Steve and Tim are looking forward to meeting Jared _very soon_ , since I gave you their table tonight.”

“Thanks,” Jensen deadpans with a tight smile, shooting Chris a murderous look. 

“Don’t mention it.” Chris just grins, pats Jensen’s shoulder and slips off between the tables.

“You’ll have to excuse him,” Jensen says. “He hasn’t had the chance to tease me about anything in a long time. He’s enjoying it way too much.”

“It’s okay,” Jared smiles. “It’s kinda nice to know you went out of your way. Especially since I know you hate dating.”

“I do hate dating.” Jensen shrugs. “But this is different.”

Jared tilts his head, waits while he watches Jensen’s eyes track over the menu. “This is the part where you’re supposed to tell me _why_ it’s different,” Jared prods.

Jensen puts a hand under his chin and looks very deliberately at Jared. “Is this one of those relationship things people do?” he asks, smirking teasingly. 

“Yeah,” Jared smirks back. “It’s called communication.”

“Hunh,” Jensen says thoughtfully. “No wonder I always avoided having one.” The corner of his mouth quirks a little. “It’s different because it’s not about trading anything. It’s just about… doing something nice for you.”

Jensen just keeps surprising him. “Aw, you know, that’s kinda sweet,” Jared grins, can’t help teasing him just a little.

“Keep that up and I’ll take your ass home right now.” Jensen’s smirking when he says it though, and Jared laughs.

“And I’m thrilled that you brought me here tonight. It’s really great. But you know…” Jared says, more seriously. “You didn’t _have_ to do this.”

Jensen nods. “I know.” There’s a genuine smile playing on his lips. “That’s why I wanted to.”

And there it is. The perfect opportunity to talk about _everything_. Jared’s mouth dries up, and he licks his lips. “So,” Jared starts to say, hesitates. “The whole ‘choice’ issue…”

Gabe chooses that moment to arrive with their wine. Jensen waves off the usual wine presentation ritual, tells him to pour and then sends him away.

Jensen slides two fingers around the stem of the wineglass, thumb cupping the rounded side as he picks it up, swirling the burgundy liquid. “Jared,” he says quietly, looking at Jared over the rim. “You left the choice up to me. I made the choice _not_ to have you in my life. I lived that way for three weeks, and I was,” he hesitates, glances down at his glass. “Not happy about it. But I figured out what I needed to.” He meets Jared’s eyes again. “Like I said; I’m here now because I want to be, not because I have to be.” 

Jared’s stomach does a strange thing that’s not quite a flip, not quite a swoop, and he swallows hard. He can’t believe how open Jensen’s being, and it hits him all over again that Jensen isn’t used to this, that he’s probably never been this open with anyone.

Jensen takes a sip of wine, pauses a second to savor it, then sets his glass down, runs his finger around the rim. “So we’re both here for the right reasons.” He says it like it’s a statement, but Jared can hear the question implicit in the words.

“I’m just here for the food,” Jared says and winks.

“Well then you’d better figure out what you want to eat, because Gabe will be hovering any second now.”

Jared nods, but he doesn’t look down at the menu, watches as Jensen does.

“Jensen…” he starts to say, wants to explain, make sure Jensen knows he was only joking.

Jensen doesn’t even look up; nods once. “I know.”

Jared smiles, even though Jensen isn’t looking at him. When Gabe returns, Jared orders a shaved fennel salad, and when it comes it’s ripe with succulent blood oranges and pomegranate, covered in shaved Pecorino cheese. The wine is heady, aged and aromatic, thrilling on his tongue—he’s never tasted anything like it. Which means it’s expensive as fuck. Chris must be _really_ happy; never mind that he _had_ to know Jared’s under twenty-one.

And what about the fact that Chris has never heard Jensen ask for a favor, much less call anyone special before? Jared doesn’t even know what to think about that. Yeah, Jensen came to his doorstep, confessing everything, and he’s been… nothing if not truthful tonight. Nice. Thoughtful. Careful and caring, in the best possible ways. But Jared can’t wrap his brain around it. 

Dinner comes; filet mignon in mushroom wine sauce for Jared, herb crusted lamb for Jensen. Both of them stop talking, stop looking at each other, chorus into a round of “Oh, God” while they eat, both of them working to finish off the bottle of wine between them. When their plates are empty, Jared sits back, mind still preoccupied with Chris.

“Is it…” Jared says, lifting his wine glass and taking another drink. “I mean, Chris. He seemed… really surprised that you brought me here. Is it really that… different for you?”

Jensen leans a little closer across the small table, rests the first knuckle of his forefinger under his nose, hand hanging to cover his mouth. “In case my _essay_ didn’t cover it,” he says, and clears his throat meaningfully. “Yes.”

Jared laughs into the sip of wine he was taking, has to lean back, cough and sputter into his free hand. “Okay,” he says, when he can speak. “I just… it’s a little hard for me to comprehend.”

“Huh,” Jensen says, nodding as he leans back, hand falling to his wine glass. “Hard for _you_?” he asks, eyes widening, brows rising as he takes a drink.

“I bet your subtle sense of humor is so unappreciated by the rest of the world,” Jared says and grins.

“It really is,” Jensen says and nods, mock-mournfully.

“Wait,” Jared says, sudden thought occurring to him. “You explained how you always kept subs and dating separate… and we’re on a date…” He frowns not quite sure how to phrase it. “Does that mean…” He shrugs, gives up. “What does that mean?”

Jensen folds his hands together, and he looks… well, serious, but something else, too. Something Jared can’t quite puzzle out. Concerned?

“It’s up to you,” Jensen says. “But… I was hoping, maybe we could try something different. Something… in between. I want to move forward as equals in this relationship. But…” Jensen sits back in his chair a little. “The truth is, I really _enjoy_ the dom and sub aspect of things between us. So I was hoping we could keep that, sexually. Only now instead of lessons it would just be… because we enjoy it. If you _do_ enjoy it,” he adds.

Jared thinks about that for a minute, working it through. And seriously, he can’t think of anything more perfect than combining the two. “I _do_ enjoy it. I always did this because I enjoyed it, and because you do, too, and I don’t want that to stop… because,” he says, ducking his head a little as he glances down. “It’s really kind of fucking _hot_.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jensen sighs in relief, relaxing. 

“And I don’t even mind if you direct me sometimes, teach me other things. But maybe… every now and then, we could just… fuck?” Jared asks, chuckles.

“Perfect,” Jensen says.

Jared bites his lip, wants to be completely truthful, put it all out there. “I want you to know, one of the reasons I enjoy it… is because it makes me feel like I’m yours.” He’s not sure how Jensen will take that, but he kind of needs Jensen to know it, so Jensen can work out how he feels about that, now.

The lights dim, and Jared glances up, watches the massive chandeliers darken. When he looks back down, there’s a man settling into the bench seat in front of the piano, tails of his tuxedo hanging over the edge. He’s joined by a dark haired woman in a white dress that clings like skin all the way to her knees, where it flares, rippling down and onto the floor in a spill of frothy white. There’s a small group of people with instruments gathering behind the piano as the man sets his fingers to the keys, begins to play. The woman raises a mic to her perfect burgundy mouth, sways to the music until she begins to sing, deep, strong voice, sexy scratch at the edges of it.

People are already moving towards the dance floor, rising from their tables hand in hand and gliding out. Jensen rises from his chair, holds out his hand to Jared. 

Jared’s heart starts beating faster, and _God_ , it’s ridiculous; it’s just a dance. He pulls the napkin from his lap and lays it on the table, puts his hand in Jensen’s. Jensen leads him to the edge of the dance floor and turns, stepping in close.

“At the prom,” Jensen says, as he winds one arm around Jared’s waist, pressing in chest to chest, and God he smells good. “When that song played…” One arm up, palms pressed together. “And I was dancing…” Fingers interlacing. “All I could think about,” closing Jared in tight. “Was you.” Jensen takes a step, pulls Jared onto the floor, looking up into his eyes. “All I could think about,” turn and spin and Jared’s on complete autopilot for the moment, mesmerized by Jensen’s eyes, his words. “Was how much I _wanted_ to dance with _you_.” Fingers curling against his hip, Jensen, warm and solid in the circle of his arm. “And then when I saw you dancing with Steve…” Jensen’s hand tightens. “That was when I couldn’t deny it anymore.” Jensen’s eyes flicker, finally falter and fall. “I _wanted_ you. I wanted you to be _mine_.”

Jared’s breathless, stunned.

“I should have known before that.” Jensen smiles, tight curve of his mouth as he pulls them into a turn. “Remember,” he says, “I told you… ‘when you learn that, then I’ll have taught you well’?” Jensen’s arm slides a little lower down Jared’s back, fingers flexing around his. “The real quote is ‘when you can take the pebble from my hand, it will be time for you to leave’.” Jensen draws a breath. “But I couldn’t say that to you. Not even then.” He shakes his head slowly, light turning and catching across the angle of his jaw. “I’m not used to _wanting_ , Jared,” he whispers, and it’s almost seductive, the way he says it, low warning and invitation all at once. Jared feels Jensen’s breath ghost across his lips, pulling him in like gravity. Jensen’s mouth is soft as he sweeps his tongue across Jared's lips, quick, hot flash of a kiss.

“You...” Jensen turns his cheek against Jared’s, slides his mouth close and whispers into Jared’s ear. “Were so fucking hard to resist.” 

“And now?” Jared asks, voice barely audible.

“You see me resisting?” Jensen’s voice is a deep, throaty purr.

The words sink deep under Jared’s skin, sending chills all through him. Jensen leads him into an intricate step and Jared follows on instinct, completely in the moment, synched to the rhythm of Jensen’s body. He can feel Jensen’s mouth curl in a smile, fingers tightening through Jared’s, and Jared tries to imagine what they look like. 

It’s smoky in the dim club, rhythm of the piano filling the room, low timbre of half-whispered voices, raspy, swaying singer in a slinky dress. Soft gleam of the piano lid behind her, slowly moving pairs reflected in it, spots of muted color. Around them, the people are more vivid; men and women, stark and sparkling in elegant textures of silk and velvet, draped in glittering jewels. Jared’s pressed to Jensen, heartbeat to heartbeat, hand in hand, Jensen’s cheek resting against his jaw as they slowly spin and move, graceful as a single body in motion. They drift among the couples on the dance floor, leaning into each other, and there’s no shyness here, no awkwardness, like the last three weeks never happened; like they’ve always been this way together.

The piano fades out and the music speeds up, sound of percussion and guitar alone. It sounds exotic; fast, sexy island-style music. Jensen turns Jared in his arms, twirls him out and spins him back in, one hand fitting to the base of his spine, the other clasping Jared’s and bending at the elbow, leading them into a smooth circle. Quick short steps apart, hands still clasped, feet gliding, then twisting back together. Jensen’s hand slides from Jared’s, fingers gripping his waist, tugging his hips back and forth, Jensen’s hips in tandem. Jared puts his hands on Jensen’s waist and lets Jensen guide them, lower bodies making perfect figure eights together, matching the guitar, feet stepping in time to the drum beat.

By the time the music slows down again, they’re both sweating and smiling and Jared’s mind has been blown so many times he thinks maybe he’s just done being surprised. They circle each other slow, Jensen moving in and wrapping an arm around Jared’s waist.

The piano plays a warm, deep undercurrent that resonates, twinkle of higher notes sprinkled through, singer’s voice kicking in rich and throaty, brandy and cigarette smoke. It’s sultry like a late summer afternoon, weaving a spell over the room and Jared is completely caught in it, following Jensen’s sway until Jensen lets go of Jared’s hand and slips both arms around his waist. Jared settles his hands on Jensen’s shoulders, hips swinging slow, side to side in perfect time as they turn. They might as well be dancing alone for all Jared notices anything around them; all he can see and feel is Jensen.

“You know,” Jared murmurs and leans in, brushing his lips against Jensen’s cheek. “Dinner and dancing has been really nice…” He breathes out into Jensen’s hair, just behind his ear. “But I’m thinking I’d like to get out of here.”

Jensen pulls back a little, looks up at Jared. “Where do you want to go?” he asks, slightly out of breath, eyes sparking heat.

Jared tilts his face, lets his forehead rest against Jensen’s, looking him right in the eye, fingers curling in the lapels of his jacket. “Your place,” he whispers with a smile.

Jensen shakes his head, rueful, curls his lower lip between his teeth, lets it slide slowly free. “And here I’ve been trying to be a gentleman all night.”

“And it’s been amazing,” Jared smiles. “But I’ve had enough gentleness for one night,” he confides, still swaying in Jensen’s arms. “Unless… you don’t want to…?”

Jensen gives Jared a bemused, disbelieving look. “I said I was ‘trying to be a gentlemen’, not that I’d lost my mind.” He reaches behind his back, slips his fingers through Jared’s and unwinds Jared’s arm from his waist, leads him from the dance floor. 

The valet brings the car around, hands Jensen the keys, and Jensen opens the door for Jared. From inside the car, Jared watches the valet watch Jensen walk away, and turns to admire the view himself. He’s already hard; it’s fucking Pavlovian at this point. Jensen gets in and starts the car, palm of his hand rubbing the top of the shifter before he pulls it into gear. Jared watches his fingertips stroke the underside of the knob on top, and Jesus fucking Christ, his cock is aching. He palms against his dick to relieve the pressure, takes a quick breath. 

Jensen smacks the back of his hand. “Don’t even think about it,” he says before he reaches for the shifter again.

“Too bad you have to shift gears,” Jared teases. 

Jensen lifts his hand from the shifter, scratches the side of his nose with his pinky—it’s a delicate, precise motion—almost like he’s making a point. He pushes his glasses lightly to the bridge of his nose, and then he reaches over, snakes his thumb and forefinger around Jared’s wrist, fingers over the back Jared’s hand. Jensen puts both their hands on the gear shift, Jensen’s fingers sliding up and over Jared’s, flexing until they’re both gripping the knob tight. 

“Ever driven a stick?” Jensen asks with a glance from the corner of his eye, as casually as if they were still sitting in the club talking. 

“No,” Jared manages, faintly.

Jensen looks back at the road, hits the clutch, pushes Jared’s hand and shifts gears, fingers squeezing. “It’s power, control, right there in your hand,” Jensen says as he slides Jared’s fingers down the side, molded together against the cool metal, and it’s obscene, the way it feels, the way Jensen’s squeezing and stroking. “Firm, steady grip,” he says, voice dropping lower. “You have to pay attention to the responses you’re getting, the signals. Know exactly when to give it a little more.” He pulls Jared’s hand up under the knob, ripple of fingers, slow yank gliding back into gear. “To get the best performance,” he says, tonguing at his lower lip, eyes on the road. “You want to draw it out, make it smooth. Make it purr and hum, until it begs you for the next--” Hands sliding down the shaft and back up under the knob. “Thrust.” Jensen pushes into the next gear, thumb stroking over the knob as it clicks. He lets his hand rest, relax over Jared’s, thumb drawing circles against metal, and Jared can’t tear his eyes away.

He doesn’t pull his hand away either, leaves it there under Jensen’s as they drive, even when his palm starts to sweat. Jensen’s fingers are tracing lightly over the back of Jared’s hand, fingernails dragging behind. Jared would think it was an almost absent gesture, except that Jensen doesn’t do anything absently.

Jensen lets go when they get to his house, lets Jared out of the car, fingers resting on Jared’s lower back as they walk to the porch. 

Jared walks in first. The living room looks exactly like it did the last time he was here. Everything perfect and filed away, not a single item missing. 

“You never left town?” he asks, turning to look at Jensen.

Jensen hesitates for a second, fingers lingering on the door, and then he pushes it shut behind him. “No.”

“Why not?”

Jensen tosses the keys down on the table by the door, one hand loosening the bow tie around his neck as he walks up to Jared. He runs a finger down the line of buttons on Jared’s shirt. “Why do you think?” he asks, looking up over the rims of his glasses.

He _thinks_ he knows, but if he’s wrong… no, no way he’s going out on that much of a limb. “Because… you… changed your mind?” Jared asks.

Jensen moves in closer, smoothes his hands down Jared’s sides. Their chests brush and Jensen leans up, in, breath warm against Jared’s mouth as he speaks. “Because of you.” Jared shivers with the sensation, words sending his mind spinning, but he doesn’t have time to think about them; Jensen’s mouth is closing over his, hot, wet and demanding.

Hands unbuttoning Jared's jacket, slipping up and between, tugging his shirt open, smoothing out across his collar bone. Nails digging into the contour, skating over skin, red trails left behind.

“Missed you.” Words whispered, sinuous into Jared’s mouth, fingernails scraping over his nipples, down, around his ribs, pushing under the waistline of his pants and sinking into his hips. He pushes Jared to the wall, jolt of impact that makes him groan into the kiss, Jensen’s hips shoving in, cocks sliding, scraping through the material of their pants.

Jared bites Jensen’s lower lip, grips Jensen’s head between his hands and dives in with his tongue, sweeping across the rough curl of Jensen’s; tasting the texture, sliding down the curve. Jensen tastes sweet and rich, like wine, sugar and candy, and Jared savors it, swirls his tongue and suckles, feels Jensen moan into his mouth.

“God, so fucking sweet,” Jared breathes, licking over Jensen’s mouth. “All I fucking thought about.” Jensen’s hands pulling at him, ripping open his careful bow tie, yanking his jacket and shirt from his shoulders. Jared pushes away from the wall long enough to let Jensen tear his clothes off, and then their hands are back on each other; desperate, grasping, needy.

“Fuck,” Jensen bites out between hard kisses, nips of teeth. “Skin feels so fucking good under my hands.” Fingertips trailing up Jared’s ribcage, joining together up the center of his chest, spiraling out into circles over his bare nipples. Thumbnails flicking the hardened tips, mouth savage, hips slamming, pinning him.

Jensen’s ripping out of his own clothes, careless hands, ceaseless mouth shoving Jared’s head into the wall, sucking Jared’s tongue, shirt and jacket torn away. Tangle of black and white thrown to the floor, barely landing before Jensen puts his hands on Jared’s face, holds him still against the hard plaster, mouth and hips thrusting. “All you thought about,” Jensen whispers, guttural, growling, grinding into Jared, body shivering like a live wire. “You wanna know what _I_ thought about?”

“Tell me,” Jared manages to breathe, hips shoving back.

“I thought about the last time you were here,” he confides, kisses Jared deep. “About the way I fucked you...” Slow bite of teeth and slick swirl of tongue, and he rolls into Jared like a snake, hands tugging at Jared’s pants. “How you felt… inside me.”

“Fuck.” Jared bites hard into Jensen’s lip. Jensen’s fingers work at the buttons, yanking them open. Jared hears the thread snap, the zipper hiss, pulls in a desperate breath. Jensen steals the air from him, sucks it in and bites Jared’s tongue, sucking on the tip. Fingers curling roughly in the open vee of his dress pants, pulling Jared down the hallway. The world spins, Jared landing on the bed on his back. Jensen crawls up his body on all fours like a panther, bare chest and hungry eyes.

He bends and kisses Jared, wet and deep, amazing twirls and curls of his tongue, chest smooth, sliding against Jared’s. He pulls his glasses off, leans to set them on the nightstand, and when he pulls back, his hand ghosts over Jared’s. Jensen catches Jared’s wrist, wraps his fingers around, thumb brushing the sensitive underside gently. “Still trust me, Jared?”

Suddenly it all clicks; Jensen’s words, what’s happening. “No,” Jared says without thinking, and the pain in Jensen’s face is instantaneous, flinch that hurts Jared’s heart. “I mean _yes_ , I trust you,” Jared says quickly, slides his hand and laces his fingers through Jensen’s like an apology. “I meant ‘no, I don’t want to do this’. Not like this.”

Jensen blinks, frowning lightly. “I thought you’d want…”

Oh, Jared _wants_ , all right. But he’s had a while to think about what happened here last time, without the glaze of sex blinding him—and he’s pretty sure he knows what this is. “The last time we did this, you called it a gift. Is that what this is? Another gift? Do you think I deserve it for giving you another chance? That I _won_ this like some kind of prize? You don’t _owe_ me anything, Jensen. You don’t have to do anything to make me want to be here. If we do this, do it because you want to--fuck reasons, fuck logic. If you want this, let’s do it. If you have to tie me up, then you don’t really want it.”

The look of confusion on Jensen’s face twists Jared’s heart inside his chest. “It doesn’t matter what I want,” Jensen shakes his head. “I _should_ give this to you.”

Logic. Rules. Control. He loves all of these qualities in Jensen. But… “You told me when you came to my house, that you wanted me to teach you,” he says, and Jensen nods. Jared takes a breath, looks deep into Jensen’s eyes. “So forget all the ‘shoulds’, forget all your logic and rules, forget all your essays. Just for a little while. Let me show you what this _could_ be like, give you just a taste… and then you tell me if you _want_ it.”

Jensen’s jaw tenses, and Jared can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s hedging, unsure. And why the hell wouldn’t he be?

“I know. It seems like asking a lot, right?” he says. And God, Jared’s risking way more than he feels ready to, because he’s not one-hundred percent sure what Jensen’s answer will be to his next question. “But really, it comes down to one thing…” He squeezes Jensen’s hand. “Do you trust _me_?” 

Jensen hesitates for so long-- _too_ long—and finally he nods once, solemn as Jared’s ever seen him look. “I do.”

Jared’s heart speeds up with the admission, how much it clearly means. Jared lifts his other hand, fingertips skating over Jensen’s cheek, tracing the line of sharp bone, soft skin, curving up to the shape of his ear. “Have you…” Jared says, strangely breathless and sad all at once, “ever trusted anyone else?”

Jensen’s eyes flicker, barest shake of his head. “Not in a really long time.”

Jared can’t really explain what it is that he feels, thinks—it’s too much. “I’ll never hurt you,” he promises, sudden fierce protectiveness rising in his chest. Jensen is very still, plush lips parted over the whiteness of his teeth, eyes looking into Jared like he’s mesmerized. “Promise,” Jared whispers, hands sliding into Jensen’s hair, stroking through, tugging him down. Gentle press of lips and it feels warm, safe, Jensen’s hands pressed against his collarbone, his hip, tongue slow and hesitant, sweeping through Jared’s mouth like he’s tasting him for the first time.

“I love you,” Jared whispers. Slow lick over Jensen’s mouth, sinking in and spiraling out, tongues circling. Glide and slide, and Jared thinks he could do this forever; Jensen’s hands moving to cup his face, kissing him like he might break if Jensen’s not careful. Jared slides his hands through the thick strands of Jensen’s hair, settles them on Jensen’s shoulders. Jared pushes up and in, rising into Jensen’s mouth, hip and shoulder turning Jensen’s weight. Jensen breathes out into Jared’s mouth, fingers tightening on Jared’s skin, and he rolls onto his back, pulling Jared on top of him.

Jared dives deep, sucks Jensen’s tongue into his mouth, rocks his hips in a low rolling wave, cocks pressed together through soft wool, heat and hardness, rubbing, grazing pleasure that leaves both of them breathing hard, Jared catching Jensen’s lip between his teeth as he moans. Thrust and push of tongues, chins turning, angling, kissing deeper. Jensen’s hands run down Jared’s bare back, fingertips teasing at the waist line of his dress pants, spreading out to cover the jut of Jared’s hipbones.

“Gonna make you feel so good,” Jared whispers, licking the sharp ridge of Jensen’s teeth, the sleek inside of his upper lip. Hard lines and curves of their bodies molding tight, Jensen’s chest, firm against him, heart beating faster under Jared’s, ripple of stomach muscles as they stretch and strain into each other. He sucks and licks down Jensen’s jaw, feels him gasp as Jared chases the bullet of his pulse, taste of salt, musky sweat. Tongue laving over the vein, slow slide to the dip of his collar bone. He maps out the contour with his mouth, curves down the center of Jensen’s chest, soaking up the sharp, sweet flavor of him. Jared flicks his eyes up, slick trail zigzagging down Jensen’s belly, fingertips sliding over hardened nipples.

Jensen’s got his fingers tangled in the sheets, head angled back, watching Jared through tight slits of green.

“Touch me,” Jared whispers, tongues down the shallow line in the center of his stomach muscles.

Jensen’s hands move slow, climbing to Jared’s shoulders, thumbs pushing, fingers flexing, rising from the bed to meet Jared’s mouth. Jared works his hands down Jensen’s body, tracing the cut of Jensen’s ribs, swell of solid muscle, down to grip his waist. Dive and swirl of his tongue, in and out of Jensen’s belly button, mouth dragging slick down to the bare skin between the buttons of his pants. So hot under his mouth, so close to where he wants to be, he sucks the skin between his lips, lets his teeth scrape, Jensen shivering underneath him.

Jared’s aching hard, but he doesn’t care. _This_. This is what he wants, so much more than getting off. Hiss of zipper under Jared’s fingers, tongue following the divide, curve and curl around the outside of Jensen’s cock, barely brushing against him. He tugs the pants down Jensen’s hips, peels them away. Jared sits up on his knees and works out of his own pants—and just has to fucking _stop_ , because Jesus Christ Jensen’s fucking gorgeous, laid out naked on the bed, mouth red and swollen from kissing, cock hard and flushed, curving against his belly, and those eyes, God, those eyes, burning holes right into him.

“So fucking beautiful,” Jared says and bends to lick a line up the inside of Jensen’s thigh, fingers playing in the hollows of hips. “Do you have any idea,” Jared asks, tonguing the crease of his thigh, “how crazy you make me?”

Slow dragging trail up the thin skin of Jensen’s cock, fullness pulsing, twitching, Jensen’s fingers clenching, breath hissing out. Jared tongues the slit, tastes sex and salt, closes his lips around the head, hand sliding between Jensen’s legs, parting him. Mouth sliding fast and slick down the length, tip of his middle finger gliding up the crease behind.

“Fuck,” Jensen breathes, body arching off the bed. His hips stutter, thrust into Jared and Jared takes it all, feels his throat flutter and lock around the head, finger tracing light circles over the heat of his hole. Teasing presses and rubs, mouth dragging up, tongue curling against the underside, and Jensen shakes, corkscrews his hips into Jared and moans, fingers digging trenches in Jared’s shoulders. Jared hollows his cheeks, sucks hard to the tip, twists his head and flexes his lips around it before he shoves, swallowing Jensen in one quick thrust.

“Jesus fucking _Christ_ ,” Jensen growls, body going rigid, trembling against the bed. Jared looks up, holds that burning gaze as he does it again, watches Jensen’s eyes squeeze shut with pleasure, teeth sinking into his lower lip. So fucking hot, gleam of sweat over Jensen’s muscles, making him shine, face flushed, blush creeping down into his chest, muscles straining. Jensen’s eyes snap open, still riveted on Jared, glazed and half-lidded, mouth open, panting hard and fast. God, he could suck Jensen’s dick all day long and never get tired of it, but there are other places he really wants to put his mouth.

He pulls off with a wet pop, flicking his tongue over the slippery crest, watches Jensen shiver, moan. Wraps his fingers around Jensen’s spit-slick cock, flexing, pulling up the length. Slides his hand under the muscle of Jensen’s ass, pulls up the solid curve, and fuck Jensen feels good under Jared’s fingers. He palms the underside of Jensen’s upper thigh, pushes his leg up slow, squeezes his grip on Jensen’s cock and pulls as he lays on his belly, tongue unfurling against the exposed skin. Light lick up the center, barest brush of tongue against the tight heat, hand working Jensen slow and hard, knuckles grazing Jensen’s belly. Jared eases in until he’s lapping at him with wide strokes, Jensen’s body moving into the rhythm Jared’s setting, pushing back against him. Jared circles the hole and swirls his tongue over it, Jensen shuddering and twisting under him, moaning. He can’t fucking believe he’s _doing_ this, that Jensen’s letting him, and God it’s fucking hot, making Jensen feel like this, watching him come apart. So many things Jared wants to do, and fuck, he has to remember to take this _slow_.

He uses two fingers to spread Jensen a little wider, leans in and flicks his tongue, tip stroking, sinking deeper into heat. Jensen gasps and Jared pulls with a rough skid of his palm, thumb rubbing under the head of Jensen’s cock, tongue wriggling. Jensen’s hips jerk against him, tremor of pleasure rippling through his body, and Jared pushes with the thrust, lets just the tip of his tongue breach Jensen’s body. And oh, fuck _yes_ , body arching off the bed, pushing into Jared’s mouth, surprised, hungry sound from him and Jared gives him more, smooth slip slide of tongue into Jensen’s body, scorching heat and tight muscle closing around him. 

“Fuck,” Jensen pants, and Jared’s going to have grooves in his shoulders, probably bruises, and he could care fucking less, with the noises that are coming out of Jensen right now. 

Jared lets go of Jensen’s dick, slides Jensen’s other leg up, spreads his fingers and pulls Jensen wider with his thumbs. Short, soft strokes, barely pushing inside the ring, seals his lips to skin and sucks the rim, tongue pumping in and out between. It’s gloriously hot and tight, and Jared’s cock is diamond hard, twitching against the bed. Jared hums, lets his tongue thrust long, stretching slow, feels Jensen relaxing, writhing, grinding, opening to him, so he sinks in until his chin touches Jensen’s body, feels Jensen quiver, shove against his face. Jared curls the tip of his tongue and slowly slides it out, pressing up, feels Jensen’s hips buck as he cries out, low and rasping. Jared dives in and out, tongue rocking in and out until Jensen’s hands are sweating, sliding over Jared’s shoulders, skidding over skin like he can hardly hold on, noise and whispered words pouring from him in a ceaseless tide, low and guttural, until finally his lower lip is caught between his teeth, eyes shut tight, and holy _shit_ , Jensen’s _really_ enjoying this. 

Jared pulls away with one last suck and a gentle press of lips. Lets his fingers glide through the slick, teasing wet, pink skin with one fingertip.

“Don’t you fucking dare stop,” Jensen growls, fingernails cutting half-moons into Jared’s skin.

“Don’t want me to stop?” Jared asks breathlessly, licking a stripe up the center of Jensen’s cock and making him shiver. He teases with the tip of his finger, lets it just barely dip inside then out, circles around, watches Jensen gasp and twitch as he does. “You want this?” Jared asks, sinking a little deeper this time, and Jensen moans, sound like melting butter, shudder of satisfaction running through him. 

“Fucking do it,” he hisses. “Wanna feel you do it.”

“Tell me what you want, Jensen. Wanna give you everything,” Jared says, finger pressing against the rim, lips tightening to suck the sensitive spot under the head of Jensen’s cock.

“Jesus fuck,” Jensen moans. “Your fingers inside me, mouth on my cock. Want it. Do it.” Just _hearing_ those words coming out of Jensen’s mouth is enough to make his dick strain and twitch, leaking uselessly.

Jared reaches for the lube, slicks his fingers generously, rubs it between Jensen’s legs and wriggles the tip of his finger just inside, moaning around Jensen’s cock as he feels Jensen’s body clench. Slow, wet sucks, finger easing in, and fuck, Jensen’s burning up inside, so _hot_. Jensen circles his hips, rotates and grinds down with a slow exhale, and he’s so motherfucking sexy when he does it, sinking down onto Jared’s hand, eyes closed, tongue licking out unconsciously. Jared fucks him slow and easy, twisting his finger and pressing into the sweet spot on every stroke out. Jensen’s hands grip his hair and hold him still, fucking his mouth with quick, sharp, deep thrusts, and Jared relaxes his throat, lets Jensen fuck him as hard as he wants, concentrates on what he’s doing with his hands instead. He slides a second finger alongside the first, feels Jensen’s hips buck, slamming into his mouth with a strangled gasp. Jared moans, feels the muscles flex with the push from inside Jensen’s body and speeds up the pace, doesn’t give Jensen time to adjust, thrusting in and out with hard smooth strokes, fingers crooking, stretching, tips returning again and again to rub against the spot. Jensen goes completely still, trembling and trying to breathe, cock shoved full tilt to the back of Jared’s throat and Jared swallows around him, sucks in a desperate breath himself and scissors his fingers apart.

“Oh… God. Fuck.” Jensen pushes his hips up a little harder, straining, and Jared almost gags as he slides in another millimeter. Fingers together, pushing up and in, then scissoring out again. He can feel Jensen stretching open, see the almost violent pleasure in Jensen’s face as he does it, again, again, and then Jensen’s yanking Jared’s head away. Jared lets him, doesn’t want Jensen to come yet, either, and he can tell Jensen’s dangerously close, uneven breathing, cock flushed deep red and so hard that it’s even thicker than normal. Jared licks down over the velvety sac of Jensen’s balls and pumps his fingers, twisting them inside, and Jensen yanks against Jared’s hair, grates out a whispered curse and shoves down, shivering all the way. Jared pushes a third finger in, watches the rim stretch, glistening pink-red, Jensen’s body clutching Jared’s fingers greedily. The reaction in Jensen is instantaneous, hips jolting up from the bed, jerking like he’s been hit with an electric shock.

“So fucking hot,” Jared whispers, pressing a kiss into Jensen’s inner thigh.

Jensen’s head is thrown back, shoulders arching into the bed, fingers slipping away through Jared’s hair, clenching into fists. Jared fucks him with three fingers, slippery and deep, fast and relentless, Jensen’s body rising higher and higher off the bed, abs pulling into knots, until he’s wound so tight Jared’s pretty sure Jensen’s holding his breath, body locked around Jared’s fingers. Jared eases the pace, slows until he’s teasing, dragging circles over the spot, watches Jensen’s hips slowly fall back to the bed, spine straightening. When Jensen’s breathing again, relaxed around him, he lets his fingers slip free, one last twist and press. Jared slides up Jensen’s body, sweat slicking the way, feels his cock slide into the groove along Jensen’s and groans. Jensen’s panting, trying to catch his breath, eyes wide and glazed. Jared leans, kisses his bottom lip gently—and then he lifts his hand, licks and sucks every single one of his fingers clean while Jensen watches. 

“Jesus motherfucking Christ, Jared.” Jensen’s voice is gritty, broken, disbelieving whisper that sends shivers of pleasure all through him. Jared pulls his fingertip free and Jensen opens his mouth wide, lets Jared’s tongue slither inside and lick all around. Sharp click as their teeth collide, and Jensen’s wrapping his arms around Jared’s shoulders, crushing Jared tight against his chest, tongue swirling over Jared’s. “Fuck me,” he growls into Jared’s mouth. “Want you to fuck me.”

Jared stops, pulls back and looks at Jensen in surprise. “You’re sure?”

“Jared,” Jensen says, low and dangerous, eyes dark and piercing. “If you don’t fuck me right now I’m going to throw you the fuck out of my house and find someone who will.” It isn’t true, of course, Jared knows that—Jensen would never let _anyone_ else do this—but God it’s fucking hot as hell to hear Jensen _say_ it. 

“One second,” Jared says, hand shaking as he starts to stretch across the bed for the condoms in the nightstand.

Jensen pulls him back. “Too late,” he says, and Jared can feel him shaking, too, desire and something darker. “Already fucked that up,” Jensen says, licks Jared’s mouth, closes his teeth around the swell. “Want to feel you bare inside me, anyway.”

Jesus fucking Christ Jensen’s going to kill him; mouthing, sharp teeth against Jared’s neck, body arcing like a live wire under him, sinuous twist of hips. He can barely think past the thundering of his heart, the ache of his cock, the filthy stream of words Jensen’s whispering into his ear. “I’ve never,” Jared starts.

“Me neither, before prom,” Jensen says. Licks up the line of Jared’s jaw, spirals his tongue into Jared’s ear and whispers, “Made me lose my fucking mind that night.” Jensen bites the curve, tongue sliding heavy down the edge and around. “Wanna see…” slow suck and swirl down Jared’s throat, “if you can do it again.”

Jared pushes to his knees, grabs the lube. Fists his cock slowly with slick, watches Jensen watch him do it. Fingers trembling as he runs them up the backs of Jensen’s thighs, bends them up, and fuck he looks fucking gorgeous, spread open and waiting like this. Jared has to bite the inside of his cheek, calm himself down, stomach roiling nervously. He’s done this _lots_ of times, he knows what to do, but it’s never been like this, with someone like Jensen. He nudges forward, cock head settling against slick heat, has to swallow back a moan, every nerve standing on end. Glorious rush of fear and need, love and lust, and he pushes, feels Jensen stretch around him.

“Oh, fuck,” Jared gasps. He had no idea it could feel like this. Jensen’s like scorching silk squeezing his cock, so fucking amazing that he has to stop for a minute, catch his breath. He can feel the beat of Jensen’s heart from the inside, body tight as a vice. Jensen’s moaning, wriggling under him, hips rocking side to side as Jared sinks deeper. He remembers what Jensen told him the first time they ever did this—it’s not Jensen’s first time, but he’s not used to taking it like Jared is. So he pushes agonizingly slow until he’s halfway, brushes his thumbs over Jensen’s hips and holds, thrusting hard. He sinks fast to the bottom, and _fuck_ that’s good.

Jensen sucks in a sharp breath, and Jared falls down against Jensen’s body, catches himself with his hands and kisses Jensen, steals the sound from him. 

“God, you’re fucking huge,” Jensen breathes.

“Okay?” he asks, pulling back to look at Jensen’s face.

“Yeah.” Jensen’s hands tug at Jared’s hips. “Come on,” Jensen whispers, eyes dark, devouring. “Fuck me, Jared.” He says it like an invitation, like a dare, like he can’t fucking _wait_ and _God_ he’s so sexy it’s fucking insane. Jared moves, takes the first few thrusts slow and easy, feels like he’s going to lose his goddamned mind.

“You feel,” Jared breathes, shuddering as he draws out, palms splayed over Jensen’s hips, “so…” push, sinking into corded silk gripping him like a fist, “fucking amazing.” 

Jared pushes a little harder, Jensen’s hands gripping his ass, pulling him in, urging him faster. Jared lifts Jensen’s body and angles his hips, shoves deep. Jared feels the head of his cock go skating over the sweet spot and moans, hears Jensen suck in a sharp breath. Jensen’s moving underneath him, they’re stretching and straining together, skin sticking as they begin to sweat. Jared thrusts harder, deeper, yanks back quick, feels Jensen’s hands tugging him, hips rising to meet Jared. Jensen thinks giving himself is the gift, and it _is_ ; Jared’s more touched and honored than he’s ever been, and he’s incredibly fucking turned on. But there’s still that tension in Jensen’s body, a kind of guardedness. It’s a gift, but it’s a _controlled_ gift. Jared has something he can give, too.

“You said…” Jared says, thrusts into Jensen harder, feels Jensen groan and kisses his mouth. Speeds his hips, dizzying glide in and out of Jensen’s body and it’s hard to focus on the words. “You trust me.” Jared licks a line up to Jensen’s ear, breathes out hot. “So let go.”

Jensen makes a noise of dissent, turns his face and nips at Jared’s throat. Jared pulls, lifts his neck away from Jensen’s mouth and shoves his lower body. Jensen wants to do this, he asked for this. He just needs to convince Jensen to enjoy himself.

“Come on, Jensen,” Jared says, driving his hips in, watching Jensen's body shudder with the impact, lashes fluttering shut. “Come on,” he urges, seizes Jensen's lower lip between his teeth and twists. “Fucking let go.” Hot whisper into Jensen's mouth, licks over the mark his teeth made, staring down into those eyes. “Let go and fucking _take it_ for once,” he growls, bites Jensen's throat, tugs the skin savagely. 

Jensen's head snaps back, neck going taut, body thrumming under Jared, voice strained as he grates out, “Maybe if you'd shut the fuck up and _give it_ to me.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fucking give it to you, all right,” Jared promises, guttural warning. Jared slams his cock at an angle, scraping the sweet spot and sliding, slick and full to the bottom, yanks out and plunges again, teeth locked on Jensen's pulse around a low, rumbling sound. Hips like pistons, snapping into Jensen, so hard that Jensen hisses out a gasp, and Jared sinks his fingernails into the curve of Jensen's ass, thumbs slotting into hips, gripping tight.

Driving in and out, sweet, blissful scrape and drag, Jensen stretched hot and tight, holding him. He draws his knees under him, swivels his hips and shoves up, hammering into that spot again and again, wraps one hand around Jensen's cock and pulls, rough sharp twist to the top, pulling the head, squeezing it through his fingers, thumbing the slit.

“Sweet fucking Christ,” Jensen gasps, head lolling back. “Fucking fuck, yes.” Jared buries his mouth in the exposed skin of Jensen's neck, fists Jensen's cock fast and hard, thigh muscles coiling, and snaps his lower body with all his weight behind it, rocking into Jensen with so much force that Jensen's hips rise from the bed.

Jensen makes a choked sound and moans, hands slamming down on Jared's back, arms wrapping around Jared's waist, gripping hard. He feels Jensen shudder, muscles convulsing and relaxing, and then Jensen sinks his fingers deep, stops fighting, molds his body to Jared's and just fucking _holds on_. Hips grinding, meeting Jared with every sharp thrust, breathing hard and moaning into Jared’s mouth. Jared fucks him even harder, ruthlessly into the mattress, sweating, bucking, hand stripping Jensen’s cock until Jensen finally groans, lets go of Jared, hands gripping the headboard above his head.

It’s an incredible sight, Jensen’s body stretched out underneath him, knuckles white against the wood, head back, eyes completely closed, plush mouth open, panting and making noises that make Jared’s cock twitch and pulse. Jensen uses the headboard for leverage, pushing and arching, shoving himself down on Jared’s cock and holy motherfucking _Christ_ it’s so hot that Jared thinks he might disintegrate on the spot. He meets Jensen thrust for thrust, bodies jolting as they slam together, meeting in the middle, and _fuck_ , Jared’s never going to last like this, Jensen grinding, twisting all over Jared’s dick. He thumbs under the head of Jensen’s cock, squeezes, pulls, watches Jensen writhe in the sheets, face slick with sweat, smearing as he turns his head, blunt teeth sinking into the flesh of his upper arm, spitting out words around the skin, _fuck, so good, fuck, fuck_.

Jared lifts his other hand from Jensen’s hip, fits his fingers over Jensen’s around the wood and slams his cock home, holds there, whole body quivering as he leans down, breathes into Jensen’s mouth and whispers, “Yeah, come on, do it.”

Jensen bites deeper into his arm, jerks his hips and lifts up, sweet quick pull before he rams back down on Jared’s cock, both of them crying out.

“Fuck, so fucking hot,” Jared mouths, tongue tasting salt from Jensen’s chin, watching Jensen’s face contort, pulling tight with pleasure. He thumbs the beads of precome clinging to Jensen’s dick, smears pearly slick down the length, yanks up as Jensen slams into Jared again. Jensen’s whole body stiffens, teeth pulling at his own skin until they tear free, sound building like pressure inside his chest, rising fast. Uses his hips, rocks, circles and grinds on Jared, rapid lifts and thrusts, belly and thighs trembling, eyes squeezed shut.

“Oh, fuck yes,” Jared whispers eagerly, eyes ravaging Jensen’s face, fingers working Jensen’s cock in a blur of motion, and Jensen’s eyes fly open, pink mouth a round “o”. One last graceless shove of hips and he goes taut all around Jared, muscles standing out like cords.

Jensen comes with Jared’s cock buried inside him, whole body contracting, twisting under Jared, thrashing as he spurts in quick, violent bursts that paint the underside of his chin with pearly droplets. Shuddering, trembling, long, loud sound tearing from his chest as his hips shiver, buck and twitch helplessly against Jared. Jared watches every expression on his face, starts fucking him again as he wrings every bit of pleasure from him, milking his cock. Crazy, wild thrusts of Jensen’s body, arching and gasping; Jared can feel every flutter and squeeze of Jensen around his cock, and he’s not going to be able to hold out long against the onslaught of Jensen completely losing his shit. Bellies and chests covered with slick, and Jensen’s shaking like an earthquake, cock trembling and twitching out another sharp burst that sends his head rocking back into the pillow with a ragged moan, and that’s it, Jared can’t hold out anymore. 

“Oh my fucking _God_.”

He comes like he’s dying, exploding, twitching, hips frozen, locked in place, head thrown back. And then Jensen starts to move, pushing down with hard thrusts, body clenched tight around Jared’s cock and he falls on top of Jensen, nails raking trails down Jensen’s shoulders, shivering and clutching as Jensen rocks up and down on his dick. It’s so fucking hot and intense that Jared almost bites through his cheek, gasping as Jensen twists his hips and _fuck_ , he’s coming _inside_ of Jensen, cock sliding through the thick, slippery mess, gliding faster and faster. And then he feels Jensen’s hand slide down the crease between his legs, slick finger shoving inside Jared without ceremony and Jared slams his hips into Jensen, bites so hard into Jensen’s neck that tomorrow he’ll be bruised. Jensen pushes into that spot and keeps right on fucking Jared and it’s so fucking amazing, buried inside Jensen, that hot body fucking him, finger inside Jared’s body—and then Jensen shoves in a second finger and Jared comes _again_ , instantly and twice as hard.

He’s still twitching when he comes to a few minutes later. “Jesus fucking Christ,” he croaks, and he can feel Jensen nod, cheek rubbing against Jared’s.

“Seconded,” Jensen pants, fingers running through Jared’s hair. 

Jared lifts up to kiss Jensen and stops when he sees the look on Jensen’s face. He’s… different. Jared can’t really define it any better than that. He’s not softer exactly… He looks utterly spent, but more than that, he looks… relaxed, comfortable. He’s lounging against the bed, smiling and looking back at Jared with something like contentment.

He barely moves to grab a pair of towels out of the night stand, and Jared pulls out with a soft groan, Jensen twitching. Jared sits up as Jensen hands him one of the towels, and they clean up before Jensen grabs Jared’s towel back, throws them both on the floor.

“So,” Jensen says, and stretches, relaxing into the pillows. “Check _that_ off the list.”

“List?” Jared asks.

Jensen actually looks a little embarrassed, throws an arm across his forehead. “Yeah. I made a list. Things I want to do with you. Now that things are different.”

“You’re serious?” Jared laughs. 

Jensen arches a lazy brow at him. “Ever known me to kid when it comes to lists?”

“And you wrote this all today?”

“Yes.” Jensen sighs at the look Jared gives him, half-rolls his eyes. “I’d been… building it my head for a long time. Things I’d imagined doing.”

“Why didn’t you do them then?” Jared asks, baffled.

“Because.” Jensen stops, licks his lips. “Because I wouldn’t have been able to handle them, then.”

“And now?” Jared asks softly.

“We just checked off number seven,” he says, smirking as he meets Jared’s eyes. 

Jared can’t help but laugh. “Well? Can I see it?”

“My inside jacket pocket,” he says motioning to his tux jacket on the floor.

“Jesus. You were carrying it with you?” Jared asks, amazed, already leaning across the bed and reaching down. It’s a piece of yellow legal paper, folded perfectly and precisely into eighths. 

“I’m a little bit obsessive compulsive, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“Yeah. It’s a little bit hot too, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Jared smiles, rolls over on the bed next to Jensen as he unfolds the paper. Shoulders and hips pressed together, and then Jensen reaches under Jared, slides his arm up behind Jared’s neck, fingertips stroking his collarbone. It feels… weird, and somehow perfectly right. Jared wriggles a little closer and straightens out the note. 

Jensen’s eyes are fixed on Jared’s face while he reads, and Jesus _Christ_ , every single thing on this list is making him hot all over again. It’s not until he gets about three quarters of the way through, that his eyes pop open wide, jaw hitting his chest. “Jensen,” he breathes.

“Which one?” Jensen asks. Jared points to number twenty-two and Jensen gives a low laugh. “Yeah. Well. Let’s take our time working up to that one, okay?”

The stuff beyond that is even hotter and crazier—stuff Jared would never have imagined doing—and Jared’s heart is pounding, hands shaking, cock straining to get hard.

“Jesus,” he breathes, points. “Okay, how about number three? Can we do that one now?”

“You couldn’t get hard again if I sucked your cock like you were paying me for it,” Jensen says, and Jared turns his face to Jensen in amazement. Jensen’s grinning, and they both laugh. 

“Wanna bet?” Jared whispers, leaning to kiss him. Jensen meets him halfway, slides his tongue inside and licks under Jared’s tongue. Winds his hands up into Jared’s hair and pulls him in tight, kisses him, warm, sweet and slow. Hands sliding down Jared’s shoulders, gripping his upper arms. And then Jensen flips him over onto his back. Jared gasps into his mouth, and Jensen swallows the sound, plunges his tongue deep and hums.

“So fucking insatiable,” he whispers, licks the curve of Jared’s lower lip, words whispered out hot. “Fine. Number three it is.”

Jared’s so turned on again, just from reading that list. It makes him bolder, a little crazy, and he takes a breath, draws in his courage. “Much fun as that was… I’ve been dying for you to fuck me for _weeks_ ,” Jared confesses, and Jensen growls into his mouth. “I thought about some things, too,” Jared whispers into the curve of Jensen’s ear.

“Tell me what you thought.”

They trust each other. He trusts Jensen. He can tell Jensen this. “I… I thought about you fucking me. Throwing me down…Fucking me raw, like you owned me,” he confides, cheeks flushing hot.

“Jesus Christ,” Jensen swears.

Jared bites his lip, forces himself to be brave, tease Jensen with the words. “Fucking me until it _hurt_. Until I begged you to stop.” 

Jensen’s teeth close, scraping down the line of Jared’s jaw, voice deep and guttural. “Want me to fuck you like that? Hard and rough, all night long?” he whispers, rough clamp of teeth sharp, possessive for a moment before he draws away. “Fuck you until your hot little ass is sore and tender?” Jensen spits on his hand, shoves a slick finger inside Jared. Jared’s hips stutter against the bed, groan and stretch and _push_. “And then fuck you even harder?”

So _good_ , that knowing finger, working inside him. “Fuck,” Jared moans, hands pulling against his hair, grinding into Jensen’s hand. “Fucking do it.” 

“You’d let me, wouldn’t you?” Jensen asks, shoves a second finger inside him. Jared stiffens, crying out, thighs trembling and God, _fuck_. “Little fucking slut,” Jensen gasps, fingers crooking, curling, scraping over the sweet spot. Jared arches, and Jensen’s hand slams down against his stomach, holds him still.

“Not going to do that, Jared.” Jensen’s voice is teasing, hard and slick as his fingers. “Gonna fuck you, though,” he promises, tongue sliding thick and heavy into Jared’s open mouth. “God. Gonna fuck this tight ass right out.” Bite, lick, suck, and Jared’s gone, lost in the shove of Jensen’s hand. 

“Can’t even wait,” Jensen breathes, and Jared hears him pop the lube, opens his eyes and watches Jensen slick his bare cock. Hand sliding from Jared’s body and he groans, feels both of Jensen’s hands on his shoulders, cock head teasing at him, and he moans for it, begs, pretty as Jensen wants him to.

“Been waiting too long for this to make you beg tonight.” Jensen sits up on his knees, hands running down Jared’s body, down around his hips and under his thighs, nails raking. He slides his hands up behind Jared’s knees, folds his legs up and pushes them apart. “I thought about _this_ , too. Pushing up these long legs, holding them open and –God--” Jensen bites off the word as his cock slides into Jared, stretching him wide. 

“God _yes_ ,” Jared hisses, wriggling his hips.

“Fuck. So fucking tight and hot,” Jensen groans, arms sliding up under Jared’s knees, body rolling forward into Jared. Arms hooked under his knees, hands gripping his shoulders tight, until his thighs are pressed to the sides of his chest, Jensen between, chest to chest, mouths clashing and tangling. Jared can feel Jensen’s cock push to the bottom, straining, hips rocking, and Jared’s hard again, cock throbbing out a steady, needy pulse.

“Christ.” Jensen pulls in a long breath, shivering as his dick slides out, and Jared can feel his body tug, greedy, rim squeezing around Jensen’s cockhead. He clenches his muscles and bears down harder, sucking at Jensen’s neck. “Jesus fuck.” Jensen chokes, snaps his hips, filling Jared with a quick thrust that leaves Jared breathless, twitching, fingernails digging sharp crescents in Jensen’s shoulders.

“Gonna fuck you all night,” Jensen promises, pumping, grinding into Jared. “Won't… hurt you…though.” Jensen's biting at him, slick suck of tongue between teeth. “Can't.” Serpentine, shuddering slams of hips, cock shoving into that sweet spot, and Jared's eyes roll back in his head, teeth closing over the tip of his own tongue. Jensen shoves his tongue back between, and Jared opens to him, swirls around the sharp taste of copper. “Don’t ask me to,” Jensen gasps, hips circling, cock buried deep. “Too hard to say… no to you.”

“Don’t… need you to,” Jared gasps. “Fuck. So fucking good. God.” Legs bent up and apart, Jensen holding his knees, gripping his shoulders, cock driving into him, hitting that spot, Jensen’s hot mouth closing over his and it’s perfect, amazing, divine. “Everything you do is so fucking good.”

Jensen’s hips slow, pausing thrust as he sinks home, face lifting from Jared’s and looking down at him. “This is good,” Jensen whispers. “But _this_ is what I really want to do with you.” Jensen pulls out of Jared, leaves Jared whimpering, writhing. “Number one on the list.” Jensen grabs Jared by the hips and spins them both over, Jared on top.

“Wanna watch you ride me, sink down on my cock.”

And God, that is just too hot for fucking _words_. Jared sits up, spreads his legs, bumping, nudging against the head of Jensen’s dick, Jensen’s hands settling on his hips. Jared spreads his palms over Jensen’s belly, bears down, wriggling slowly, feels Jensen’s cock spread him open. He shivers at the hungry look on Jensen’s face, the way his eyes are locked on his own cock, disappearing one slow inch at a time inside Jared’s body. He shivers a little when their bodies meet, Jensen’s hands gripping but not guiding him. Jared throws his head back, feels sweat trickle down his neck, the curve of his spine, rocks forward then back, moaning, grinding body to body before he lifts, feels Jensen’s cock slipping back out.

“God. So good.” Jensen’s voice is so strained, so full of pleasure that Jared feels almost heady when it hits his ears. “You’re so fucking hot, Jared.” Jensen slides his hands up Jared’s sides, fingers trailing up to his chest, running over the muscle there. “This gorgeous body, want you like this all the time. Imagined this, so many times. Tried not to… but I couldn’t help it. So fucking sexy, Jared,” Jensen breathes, runs his thumbs down the muscles in Jared’s stomach. “The faces you make, the way you move, how much you love it. Love to watch you.”

Jared angles his hips, pushes down and feels Jensen hit that bundle of nerves inside him. “Always… ungh… wondered…” Jared moans, shuddering, twisting on Jensen’s cock. “Why we… never did this… _God_ … face to face before…”

“Because I was afraid… of looking you in the face…while we did this. Didn’t know… how to.”

The things he’s saying now, so open, completely open to Jared, and it breaks Jared’s heart, makes him feel like he can fly, all at once. “You’re looking now.” Slide and push, hands flexing against Jensen’s belly, everything so different from this angle, different pressure, sharp cant into the spot. 

“Yeah,” Jensen grunts, eyes running hungrily over Jared's body, up to his face. Push of hips, flex of stomach muscles and they both moan. “Don’t stop. Wanna see.”

Jared takes his time, undulating, grinding, until Jensen’s hand closes around his cock, tells him to come. Jensen watches him as he spills, hot and slick across Jensen’s belly, body twitching and shuddering. Watches until Jared’s spent and then Jared summons strength from his loose muscles, rocks his hips down, fucks Jensen hard and fast until Jensen’s arching into him, pulsing, filling Jared with come until he’s slipping, sliding all over Jensen’s dick as he rides out the last waves.

When it’s over, he collapses against Jensen’s chest and just lays there for a few minutes, panting hard, Jensen’s hands warm, stroking through the sweat streaking Jared’s back, sound of Jensen’s slowing heartbeat thudding into his ear. And… is this happening? Face to face, lying together, Jared’s fingertips resting on Jensen’s collarbone, drawing patterns there.

“So,” Jared says, trying to make his voice light and teasing. “Was it everything you hoped it would be?”

“I don’t know,” Jensen says, sounding like he’s weighing it. “We may have to try it a few mores times before I can be sure.”

Jared laughs into the curve of Jensen’s neck and sits up. 

“You know what this means?” Jared asks.

“That we can both finally listen to George Michael again?” Jensen asks innocently.

And that. Is just fucking _weird_. “Okay. That’s scary.” Jared laughs, shakes his head. “How’d you know?”

“Are you kidding? If I ever heard ‘One More Try’ again I was going to slit my wrists.”

“You know, that’s kinda sweet in a morbid way.”

“You’re the one that wanted me,” Jensen teases, shrugging his shoulders.

“Guess I’ll just have to suck it up,” Jared sighs, like he’s put upon.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” Jensen asks, sitting up, one hand reaching for the nightstand. He plucks his glasses from it, settles them on the bridge of his nose.

Jared nods, smiles, thinking about the night. “Yeah. I really did. I’m glad we got to dance.”

“My way of making up the dance I couldn’t give you at prom.”

Jared cants his head, eyes Jensen playfully. “How do you know I wanted to dance with you at prom?”

Jensen sits back against the headboard and shrugs, speaking casually. “Well, I figured if _I_ wanted to when I couldn’t even admit to myself I was in love with you, then you _must_ have wanted it.” 

Jared nods, presses his lips together. “Yeah, you know I--” The words suddenly click, slam into him like a Mack truck. “Wait. What? You _what_?” 

Jensen’s brows rise above his glasses. “What? Oh. You didn’t know?” He shakes his head, rubs a hand across his jaw. “I could’ve sworn I mentioned it earlier... hmm...”

“You are such a bastard,” Jared breathes, eyes narrowing. He can’t even work out how he feels right now; elated, terrified, angry.

“Okay, hold on.” Jensen holds up his hand, then leans across the bed, reaching for the night table “I’ve got a signed confession right--”

“Do NOT fuck with me about this, Jensen,” Jared says, reaching for Jensen’s arm to stop him.

Jensen grabs Jared’s hand, yanks Jared down on top of him and rolls them both over. “Serious enough for you?” Jensen runs his fingers up over Jared’s chest, catches Jared’s face between the palms of his hands, tilts his head back to see Jared better. Jared can feel the light tremor in Jensen’s body, fingertips twitching. 

“I’m not going to lie. This probably won’t always be easy, with me. I’ve been one way for most of my life, and I’m… not the easiest person to deal with, I know. I’m probably going to screw up. I don’t even… I’ve never…” Jensen blinks, runs a thumb over Jared’s lip. “Never loved anyone before.”

“I love you, Jared,” he whispers, eyes tightening. Jared’s stomach does a slow somersault inside him. “I…” Jensen says, as he strokes Jared’s face. “I have for a long time. I just… didn’t realize until you left that that’s what it was.”

“Jensen.” Jared’s eyes are filled with tears, heart aching in his chest like it’s going to break all over again.

Jensen shakes his head again, runs the back of his hand under Jared’s eye. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t cry.”

“They’re…” Jared gasps in a breath, almost laughs. “Happy tears.”

“I know,” Jensen nods, corner of his mouth twitching. “But I’m barely managing to say all this as it is and if you cry… I’ll probably have some kind of breakdown and fuck this all up and I really don’t think I can handle that.”

The sounds that pulls up from Jared’s chest is caught somewhere between a laugh and a sob, happiness rising inside him as he leans up, kissing Jensen.

Jensen chuckles, warm sound that rumbles into Jared, vibrating in his throat, Jensen’s hands strong and firm against Jared’s face. 

“Jensen?” Jared stops, pulling back, sudden thought striking him. “Did you… did you really write a signed confession?”

Jensen’s eyes are twinkling, mischievous and amused. “You really want to know?”

Jared debates that.

“No,” Jensen says after a moment. “I didn’t. Don’t think I could have, even if I’d wanted to.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” Jensen says, leaning closer. “Sometimes things happen and we don't know how, why, where, or even when. But they happen… and they can’t be explained, no matter how hard you try.”

“Heinsenberg?”

“Not bad, Padalecki,” Jensen breathes.

“Thanks, Mr. Ackles,” Jared smiles and kisses him.

“Jared… Would you…” Jensen asks, kisses him back and strokes his jaw with light fingertips. “Still call me ‘sir’… sometimes? Because that was so _hot_.”

Jared grins against Jensen’s mouth, and it feels like a beginning. 

“Yes, sir,” he says.

 

 

FINIS

  
  



End file.
